


come home to my heart

by knightspur



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Disbandment, Explicit Sexual Content, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:50:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 36,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14567412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/knightspur
Summary: Now he's Kim Mingyu, actor, and former idol. He's not sure what he and Minghao are.





	1. hard feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Lorde's "supercut" which is the song that inspired this fic.

Mingyu has always been a little too much on the sentimental side. He still has a box of keepsakes from his days in high school, the first confession letter he ever received is preserved carefully in a folder (even though he turned the girl who gave it to him down).

So he can't help but know that it's been almost one hundred and fifty days since the last time Minghao called him when his phone rings. He's supposed to be going over the script for a variety show but left alone in the quiet of his apartment he can't ignore the buzz of his phone on the glass table.

He sets the paper to the side and picks his phone up instead, staring at the screen for a long moment.

"Hello?" He asks when he finally answers. Maybe Minghao will think that Mingyu doesn't have his phone number saved anymore.

"Hey," Minghao says, his voice a little hollow, a product of the distance between Seoul and Hong Kong. "You're not busy, are you? I can call later."

He could say yes. He could hang up. He could stop answering when Minghao calls him.

"I'm not," he says, leaning back against the couch, drumming his fingers on his thigh. "What's up?"

 _It's been awhile,_ he doesn't say. _I miss hearing from you._

"I'm supposed to come back in a few weeks," Minghao says. Mingyu catches himself wondering when the last time he had to have a conversation in Korean was; some of his accent has started to creep over again. It's cute— it reminds Mingyu of the days when Minghao was a new trainee who couldn't do much more than mumble out a few phrases in the language.

He seemed so sweet then. Mingyu and Seokmin never left him alone; two kids excited to play with a new toy.

"Yeah?" Mingyu asks, wishing the news didn't make him perk up in his seat just a little. "You haven't been to Seoul in awhile, have you?"

He means for the question to sound polite and curious. It doesn't quite come out that way; he knows how long it's been since Minghao was last in Korea and he sounds bitter about it even when he doesn't mean to.

It takes a beat longer than usual for Minghao to respond, his voice tighter than before. "I guess."

Mingyu's voice gets stuck in the back of his throat.

"When?" He asks, clearing his throat to get the short question out.

"Ah, it's in like 3 weeks, I think," Minghao says. "My manager is still figuring some details out."

"Where are you staying?" Mingyu asks. He knows the answer to this question already, but he asks anyway. He asked the same thing before the last time Minghao came crashing into his life, stayed for 4 days in Mingyu's apartment before slipping off again.

"I told the company I'd crash with you," Minghao says, easy and casual. He doesn't even bother to ask.

Mingyu sort of hates him for it.

"It saves money," Minghao adds when Mingyu doesn't immediately answer him. Mingyu can picture the infuriating smile on his face. The last thing either of them has to worry about are hotel fees for a few days. Minghao has a closet full of designer clothes and an apartment that Mingyu has never seen the inside of in the nicest district in Hong Kong.

Mingyu sees pictures of his face on magazine covers nearly every month. He sort of hates that too.

"Of course," Mingyu says, his hand curling into a fist. "I have plenty of space."

"Do you think…" Minghao starts, trailing off with a little sigh.

"What?" Mingyu asks, lifting one of his eyebrows. He's leaning forward without meaning to, his elbows balanced on his knees. Like he can somehow press his mind across the distance between them and pick up on what Minghao is thinking.

They used to pretend for reality shows that their Seventeen Telepathy was a real thing. Now he and Minghao can hardly make it through a conversation face-to-face.

"It's nothing," Minghao says. Mingyu didn't even recognize that there was some warmth to his voice until it vanishes back behind his professional shield. "I'll send you an email with the details."

He probably won't even email Mingyu directly. It'll be more communication passed between separate companies, separate managers, separate countries.

It's been two years but Mingyu is still figuring out how to exist as a separate entity. He was a part of Seventeen since junior high when they were still in the green-walled practice room shooting silly videos and practising choreography from older idol groups.

Now he's Kim Mingyu, actor and former idol. He's not sure what he and Minghao are.

"Okay," Mingyu says, biting down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything else. "I'll look forward to it."

"Sure," Minghao says. Mingyu can hear the sound of someone talking in the background in Mandarin. Minghao says something in response, too quick for Mingyu to understand. As much studying as Mingyu tried to do he never could understand Minghao very well, and now he's too out of practice to even get the gist of what he's saying. "Ah, I have to go. They need me to shoot some more. I'll talk to you later, Mingyu-ssi."

Mingyu mumbles out a goodbye, only barely managing to beat when Minghao hangs up the phone.

He drops his phone on the couch next to him, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning his head back with a long groan.

It's been two years, but Mingyu hasn't yet found a way to keep Minghao from crawling under his skin.

**{∞}**

Six years into his career as a singer and the stress of album preparations still eat Minghao all the way to the bone. It feels like they should get more used to this with every release. He shouldn't be in their practice room at 4 in the morning by himself, half the lights turned out, watching his own steps in the mirrored wall.

The rest of the performance unit called it a night a few hours ago on Soonyoung's orders, sent home to sleep and come back in a few hours to try working on the new choreography with clearer heads. But Minghao couldn't even get himself to close his eyes, so after a snack and a quick shower, he slipped back out while Jun ferried Chan off to bed and Soonyoung went to the apartment he has to himself not far from their dorm.

He's trying to go through a half-baked idea for the footwork of the chorus when the door opens, the sound of it almost covered by the pounding of the song Minghao has playing on an endless loop. Still, Minghao can see it in the mirror and he half expects it to be Jun or maybe Jihoon dragging himself out of the studio to see who's still around making a racket.

It's Mingyu instead, dressed in a heavy sweatshirt and sleep pants, a mask on his face and his hood up. He wanders his way in, peeling the mask off and stuffing it into the pocket of his sweatshirt, taking a seat against the wall and watching Minghao try to work his way through the step sequence he's working on. He can see it in his mind but his body won't quite execute what he wants and when the song finishes he throws himself to the floor with a groan, covering his face up with both hands.

Mingyu must pause the music because the song doesn't start again. The room is quiet except for the quick puffs of Minghao's breath, his heartbeat starting to slow as he sprawls out on the floor.

"Not going well?" Mingyu asks after a moment, a little smile on his face. Minghao peeks between his fingers and shakes his head, not quite ready to face his lack of progress. He still has to get up at 7 with the rest of them and all he's been doing is wasting what little sleep he could have gotten.

Mingyu slides across the floor until he's at Minghao's side, one big hand reaching out to pat his bare shoulder.

"You guys will get it," he says, the smile on his face getting a little bigger when Minghao drops his arms to look at him properly. He's long since learned to tell Mingyu's sincere moments from his teasing ones and the encouragement makes the heavy weight on his chest feel a little bit lighter.

"Soonyoungie-hyung says we need new inspiration," Minghao says, sighing. "Wherever we're supposed to go to get that."

Mingyu laughs, his hand moving from Minghao's shoulder to scratch at the side of his head where his hair is freshly shaved, almost down to the scalp. It's much longer on top, his bangs and the rest of it combed back and gathered up into a little top-knot. The style is still new and he's curious to see what the fan's response to it will be. Mingyu's hair is long and dark still, a little mussed from sleeping and wearing his hood up.

"It's always hard," Mingyu says, dropping his hand from the side of Minghao's head to gather his knees up close to his chest. He leans his cheek on them, rocking back and forth a little. "You'll come up with something amazing."

"We don't have any other choice," Minghao says, laughing a little. He sits up, stretching his arms over his head. "Weren't you at home?"

"Couldn't sleep," Mingyu says, shaking his head. "I figured someone had to still be working."

"Jihoon-hyung is probably still here," Minghao says, shrugging one of his shoulders. He's grateful that Mingyu came to find him, it makes him smile in a way that he can't help.

"I heard the music," Mingyu says, ruffling his fingers through his own hair in an effort to fix it. When that doesn't work, Minghao takes mercy on him, reaching out to put the strands back in place. Mingyu leans his head into the touch of Minghao's hand, so Minghao just continues playing with his hair.

Their new title track is still echoing over and over in his head; hasn't stopped since Jihoon gave them the finished product to work on the choreography for.

"Do you wanna show me what you're working on?" Mingyu says. His eyes are a little puffy from the lack of sleep, but there's still an undeniable sparkle to them. Minghao probably doesn't look much better anyway; sweaty and exhausted, his face swollen from eating junk food and not sleeping enough.

"Sure," he says, pushing himself back up to his feet. "I can't get the steps right."

Mingyu nods, looking up at him for a moment with a fond, open expression that makes Minghao's skin feel too tight all over.

They've never taken the time to put a label on their relationship, whatever it is. It doesn't matter— they share a bond that's special between the two of them and that's all the answer that Minghao needs.

Mingyu leans to the side, restarting the song and leaning back to watch, his arms still draped loosely around his long legs. Even though Mingyu hasn't grown any bigger in the last few years (thankfully) the way the bottom of his pants ride up around his ankles make his legs seem even longer than usual. He has his house slippers on like he forgot to change them before he left.

It makes Minghao smile a little to himself. They've all got such tight images to maintain, and even if that doesn't keep them from being bright and silly even for the fans, he likes seeing little slips from Mingyu. It's a harmless detail— like the way Minghao rarely bothers to put his shoes on all the way at the airport— but it's a reminder that Mingyu is still the same boy he used to watch through their early interviews so he would know when something funny was happening.

Minghao always works harder for an audience, even if that audience is half asleep, slumping against the wall and blinking his eyes slowly. Minghao can feel the lazy weight of Mingyu's gaze and it drives him to plumb the last reserves of his energy, trying to perfect the quick series of steps that's been troubling him all evening. He should have asked Mingyu to film him; he's going to end up having to run it through again so he can go over it with Soonyoung later.

But for now, it just feels good to execute what's in his head without making any major mistakes. It's still on the messy side; he's tired and they don't have anything close to a full choreography. Still, when Minghao finishes he's happier than he was before, bending in half with his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath. Mingyu giggles, clapping his hands lazily after he pauses the music again.

"It looks good," he says, leaning his head to the side. "What part were you having a hard time with?"

"I've been trying to figure out the chorus," Minghao says, dropping back to sit by Mingyu's side, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "It was better that time."

Mingyu nods, his jaw stretching out in a wide yawn that Minghao mirrors after a moment, unable to stop himself.

"If you got it figured out we should sleep," Mingyu says, his voice low and heavy. It reminds Minghao of burying himself under the blankets and staying there all day. It makes Mingyu's suggestion of going to bed all the more tempting.

"I'm gonna go through it one more time," Minghao says, turning his head to brush a dry kiss on Mingyu's cheek. "Can you film through the chorus for me?"

"Worried you're gonna forget in the next…" he trails off, looking down at his phone. "Three hours."

"It'll be easier to teach Soonyoung with a video," Minghao says, wrinkling his nose at the reminder that he still has to get up so early.

It's nothing they haven't done before, even if Jeonghan has taken to regularly complaining he's too old to be running around on so little sleep.

"Okay," Mingyu says, nodding his head. "One more time and then we're going to sleep."

"Alright," Minghao says, pushing himself back to his feet. Mingyu waits until he's back to the center of the floor, giving Minghao a little nod when he has the camera of his phone pointed at the right spot, starting the music once again.

This time, when Minghao finishes the choreography, he throws himself to the floor with a laugh, stretching his arms out over his head. Mingyu giggles, setting his phone down and wiggling his way over to flop on the floor as well, his head pillowed on Minghao's arm.

Minghao doesn't even have the chance to complain about Mingyu's morning breath or being too sweaty to be touched, or the way his shoulder is digging uncomfortably into the hard floor before Mingyu kisses him.

It's okay, though, because as soon as their lips touch softly Minghao finds he doesn't mind those things nearly as much as he thought.

**{*}**

During the break in filming for the variety show Mingyu isn't sure how he got signed up for, he's surprised to find Seungkwan wandering around the same studio cafeteria, enjoying the same mediocre food.

It's not really the biggest surprise of his week, but it's a nice one nonetheless, especially when Seungkwan beams at him and takes a seat on the other side of the table, twisting open the cap of his bottle of cola the second he's in his seat.

"It's been awhile, hasn't it hyung?" He asks, even though it's probably only been two weeks since they last saw each other. Mingyu crosses paths with Seungkwan more than any of the other members, at least professionally. Seungkwan's solo career keeps him busy with music promotions, but his variety sense has only gotten sharper in the last 9 years and he's just as in demand as Mingyu. If not even a little more.

But Mingyu nods in agreement anyway, because any time apart feels like a long time.

"Are you shooting today?" He asks, talking even with cold noodle stuffed into one of his cheeks. Mingyu's still too adjusted to his habits to even be phased.

"For that new pet variety program," Mingyu says, dragging his chopsticks through his rice. He should be hungrier than he is, but Minghao is supposed to make his grand return into Mingyu's life in a few days and it's… distracting. "What are you here for, Seungkwan-ah?"

"Meetings," Seungkwan says, wrinkling his nose. "The network needs a new radio MC."

"You're good at that," Mingyu says, his leg bouncing nervously under the table for a reason he can't name. "I'm sure you'll get it no problem.

"I know," Seungkwan agrees, even as he glows at the compliment. "Seokminnie-hyung might be joining me."

"Really?" Mingyu says, smiling in spite of himself. He can't even muster a little professional jealousy that his name wasn't floated; it's been too long since BooSeok had a program together.

"If the schedule works out," Seungkwan says, nodding his head. "Are you even going to eat, hyung?"

Mingyu blinks, leaning back in his seat and looking down at his picked over food. He frowns a little, putting a meek bite of rice in his mouth to appease the concern.

Seungkwan gives him an unimpressed look.

"What's on your mind?" He says, tilting both of his eyebrows upward. His hair is blond again, almost long enough to brush his eyelashes and he still has the same cute, round cheeks that Mingyu can never resist pinching.

"Ah, nothing," Mingyu says with a tight smile, shaking his head.

He knows that his relationship with Minghao is a popular topic of gossip among the rest of them and Seungkwan is the worst offender. He somehow manages to find out everyone's secrets and isn't shy about passing them along to the rest of the members.

Usually, Mingyu doesn't mind it. It's just like when they were all sharing a dorm and living in each other's pockets. He grew past the need to have secrets at the age of 18 when he realized keeping things private with twelve other boys was a foolish idea.

But when it comes to Minghao everything feels a little too delicate, too hard to share. The raw spots of his heart never get a chance to really heal; it gets beat up all over again every time Minghao comes back into his life like a human hurricane.

"Is it Minghao-hyung?" Seungkwan asks, his lips tilted into a slightly devious smile. Mingyu opens his mouth to deny it only to find the words get stuck in his throat. He snaps his mouth shut, slumping over just a little.

"How'd you know?" He asks, wondering exactly how obvious he is. The rest of them probably spend more time laughing about it than the stupid memes of each other that get sent sporadically in their group chats, a habit no one has quite grown out of.

"Seokmin-hyung said he's coming for a visit," Seungkwan says, lifting one of his shoulders in a shrug. "It's not that hard to put together. If he knows then you must know. You're the first one Minghao-hyung calls."

Mingyu would like to argue that that isn't true but Seungkwan continues talking before he gets the chance. "Are you still seeing that reporter?"

He should probably scold Seungkwan for digging into his personal life so much but instead, he just tries to hide his red face behind his hands, squeezing his eyes shut.

"No," he mumbles out when Seungkwan's interested gaze doesn't leave his face.

"Is that because of Minghao-hyung?" He asks, in a way that suggests he already believes that's the answer.

"No," Mingyu repeats, dropping his hands to his lap. He hesitates when Seungkwan lifts his eyebrows, shaking his head. "Maybe. I don't know."

"You're seeing him when he comes, aren't you?" Again, less like he's actually asking a question.

"He asked if he could stay with me," Mingyu says after a long beat of hesitation. He can see Seungkwan's eyes light up with the desire to run off and share with Soonyoung and Seokmin, his eternal partners in crime.

“I told him it’s fine,” he says, saving Seungkwan from asking him yet another leading question. “It saves money, anyway.”

“How thoughtful,” Seungkwan says, rolling his eyes. “Do you shower together to save the planet?”

This is one of those moments where Mingyu thinks maybe he could gladly strangle Seungkwan. Seungkwan has a smile on his face, obviously pleased by his own joke, and Mingyu leans back in his seat with a long sigh. He could point out that his love life, if that's what his relationship with Minghao even counts as, isn't anyone else's business but that kind of logic has never worked on any of his group members.

"I'm sure his company appreciates it," Seungkwan says, biting back a giggle. "Do you save them money a lot?"

"I haven't seen him any more than the rest of you," Mingyu says, shaking his head. "It's not like he's taking time out to visit me. He's coming in for work."

Seungkwan's smile fades with a shake of his head. "Ah, you two."

"What?" Mingyu says, the tips of his ears going pink.

"Are you never going to work this out?" Seungkwan says, leaning forward a little. His involvement is just as shameless as ever, butting into any situation he can find like he's the most qualified person out there to be doling out advice.

"It is worked out," Mingyu says, laying his chopsticks on top of his picked over lunch and frowning. "We're just friends, the same as everyone else."

"Okay," Seungkwan says, lifting his eyebrows, his eyes wandering off to the side. Mingyu huffs in frustration, starting to stand up.

"I have to get back on set," he says, wishing he had it in him to be more annoyed with Seungkwan. He makes it hard simply by virtue of being right; Mingyu isn't hosting any of the other members in his apartment, and he's certainly not doing with them anything else that he's done with Minghao in the past year.

But it stings to think about, and the slight edge of pity in Seungkwan's eyes makes him feel even worse.

Seungkwan smiles, devious and polite in equal measures. "I'll see you later then, Mingyu-hyung."

Mingyu grunts out an unattractive sound in response. He tells himself that he doesn't storm off because they're all adults with their own careers now and storming away from a conversation with his dongsaeng in public would be immature at best.

He does let the door bang shut behind him, just a little bit louder than usual.

**{∞}**

"Hey," Minghao whispers, letting himself into Mingyu's bed in the middle of the night, slithering into whatever space his long limbs aren't already occupying. There isn't much, so he ends up laying half on top of Mingyu, one arm stretched out over his chest.

Mingyu, not quite asleep but not quite awake either, blinks up at Minghao slowly. "Hey."

"I wanna go out," he whispers, softer than he needs to, letting his words slip over the skin of Mingyu's cheek before pressing a kiss there. Their comeback is in two days and they should all probably getting whatever sleep they can before their nights dwindle away to a few hours at best.

But Minghao can't sleep; there's too much extra energy in his limbs and too many thoughts swirling around in his head. It's always like this before they release something new.

"Tonight?" Mingyu asks, lifting his head to look at Minghao properly. He takes in the clothes Minghao has on; tight jeans with rips all the way along the thighs, one of the silky designer shirts that one of his fansites gave him for this last birthday, a long silver necklace that dips below the open buttons of his shirt, before letting out a groan. "Now?"

"Yeah. Now," Minghao says, tickling his fingers over Mingyu's sides. "Get up."

"Why can't we just sleep?" Mingyu asks, wrapping one arm around Minghao's back and squeezing, trying to get him to stay.

"You can stay," Minghao says, rolling his weight back to try and escape Mingyu's warm grasp. "I need to get out of here."

Mingyu gives him his best attempt at a withering look, shaking his head. "You're gonna go by yourself?"

"If I have to," Minghao says, a grin lifting on his face. "I'll probably have more fun."

"You're the worst," Mingyu says, covering his face with one of his hands. "Those are my only options? Go with you or let you go alone?"

"Pretty much," Minghao says, laying his chin on Mingyu's shoulder. "Channie is asleep and no one else likes clubbing."

For a second, it seems like Mingyu might still turn him down. Minghao is planning on making good on his word to go either way— he can't stay in the dorms with this much energy and if he spends any more time running the choreography by himself he might just go insane. But he can admit that it's at least a little mean to make Mingyu think of things that way.

Even if Minghao has no plans on letting some stranger in a dark club stick their tongue down his throat, he can see the thought forming in Mingyu's head, his forehead wrinkling.

"Fine," Mingyu says, dropping his hand to the side and looking up at Minghao again. "Give me a few minutes to get ready."

"Good," Minghao says, grinning and pressing a fleeting kiss to Mingyu's mouth. "We'll take your car."

"We're gonna get caught," Mingyu says, sitting up after chasing another kiss from Minghao. "The manager is gonna chew us out for being irresponsible and then Seungcheol is gonna tell us he's disappointed because we're supposed to know better."

Minghao giggles, giving Mingyu a little shove to urge him out of bed. "We didn't get caught last time."

He's right but by the look, Mingyu gives him all the other times they _have_ gotten caught aren't far from his mind. Still, he rolls his way out of bed without any more complaining, flipping on one of the lights and shuffling into his closet. Minghao stretches out, facing the other way now, watching Mingyu sort through his clothes.

"Wear something hot," Minghao says, kicking his feet behind him. He has his hair tied up once again, though he thought about leaving it loose because Mingyu likes running his fingers through it now that it's grown longer. Mingyu glances over his shoulder, biting down on a grin.

"Really?" He says, though his eyes drag over the open buttons of Minghao's shirt, taking in the reveal of his neck and collarbone.

"I wanna show you off," Minghao says, biting the corner of his lip.

"I let you talk me into the worst things," Mingyu says, shaking his head as he sheds his pajamas, leaving them in a pile on the tidy floor of his closet. "You're a bad influence."

"Stay here then," Minghao says, shrugging one of his shoulders. "I'll go show myself off."

Mingyu makes a slightly distressed noise, shaking his head and stepping into a pair of dark pants. "I'm already talked into it."

Minghao gives him time to finish getting dressed; dark slacks and a loose shirt with slits at the shoulders and sides, showing little flashes of his honey skin. Mingyu wanders out of the room, grumbling about fixing his hair and Minghao smiles, hopping off the bed to decide on shoes.

 

All in all, it takes Mingyu fifteen minutes from the time Minghao wakes him till they're sitting in the front seat of his expensive car. The music is quiet and the only light comes from the controls of the radio, but Minghao can see the light layer of makeup he took the time to put on. He doesn't need it, but Minghao isn't complaining. The eyeliner makes his gaze look dark and serious and the contrast with his carefree smiles always makes Minghao feel stupidly endeared.

"Hopefully no one recognizes us," Mingyu says, more to himself than to Minghao. Minghao leans back in his seat, lifting one shoulder in a shrug and fiddling with one of the buttons at his wrist. The truth is that someone always does— there will be pictures of the two of them on some website in the morning, even with masks and hats on to try and hide their identities.

He doesn't point that out, because he doesn't want to convince Mingyu that this is a bad idea before they even get there. "It's not like we're taking girls back to random hotels or something. It'll be fine."

Mingyu barks a little laugh at that, the corners of his lips lifting up into a smile. "I guess not."

"You worry too much," Minghao says, wrinkling his nose and reaching out to rest one hand on Mingyu's thigh. There's no real intent behind it but the little glance that Mingyu tosses in his direction still makes his stomach twist a little.

"One of us has to think about these things," he says, rolling his eyes. But the smile hasn't faded off of his face, either. Minghao grins, giving the inside of his thigh a little squeeze.

"It's the last chance for fun we're gonna have," he says, intentionally dropping his voice lower. He likes the way it makes Mingyu sit up a little straighter, his eyes darting over to Minghao then back to the road in front of him like he's not sure what Minghao has in mind. He draws his thumb in a small circle around the inside of Mingyu's thigh, watching the way his expression changes, lips parting slightly, hands going tighter around the wheel. "Gotta get rid of the stress somehow."

Mingyu’s tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip. He doesn’t respond right away, his eyes following the dark strip of road in front of them. His leg presses back into Minghao’s hand just slightly and Minghao has to fight the urge to tease him more just because the chance is there.

The club that Mingyu takes them to is still busy in spite of the late hour and Mingyu makes sure his car is tucked away in the far back of the parking garage so as not to be seen. When they both step out of the car, Minghao laces their fingers together, giving Mingyu’s hand a quick squeeze.

“Thanks for coming along,” he says, grinning when Mingyu gives him a little glare in response.

“It’s not like you gave me a lot of choice,” he grumbles and Minghao can’t help but laugh.

“It’ll be fun,” he says, swinging Mingyu’s arm between them and Mingyu gives up on looking put out with him, a smile breaking out on his face. He releases Mingyu's hand before there's a risk of anyone seeing them but the warmth of Mingyu's fingers wrapped around his lingers. Minghao fishes a pair of plain black face masks out of his pocket and passes one to Mingyu, looping his own over his ears.

They'll probably get spotted anyway, but it never hurts to try.

They get pushed past the line and through the doors and Mingyu lowers the mask over his mouth enough to flash one of his charming, sharp-toothed smiles at the bouncer. Minghao doesn't bother; ducking his head and walking in ahead of Mingyu, his ears straining for the sounds of a camera clicking. But there's no commotion short of a little bit of annoyed grumbling behind them and Minghao lets himself hope that they might get through the evening without causing Seungcheol an additional headache.

"I'm not getting drunk," Mingyu says, leaning over to speak directly into Minghao's ear. Minghao lifts his shoulder in a shrug, looking up at Mingyu with a grin that's hidden behind the fabric covering his mouth.

"You're the one driving," he says, fighting back a giggle. If he was looking to drink Minghao would've suggested a much quieter place; a little bar where they're unlikely to run into a fan.

Mingyu's brow furrows a little in annoyance but Minghao ignores it, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to the crowded dance floor. "Just have a good time with me."

Usually, it doesn't take this much prodding to get Mingyu to relax; he must be more nervous for promotions than he's been letting on.

The thing that Minghao likes about clubs is the way people are too wrapped up in themselves to pay attention to what he's doing. Being the focus of a room has become second nature to him after seven years as a member of Seventeen. He's used to people watching him, judging him, fawning over him.

But the club is dark with neon lights bouncing manically all over the room and no one is paying attention when he hooks his fingers in the loops of Mingyu's pants and pulls them close together, chest-to-chest. The only person whose eyes are on him is Mingyu, his gaze heavy and dark, the flashing lights shining off his black pupils and making them sparkle purple and red. Minghao pulls the mask down around his chin so he can grin up at Mingyu, rolling his own hips to the steady pounding of the bass.

It takes a moment before Mingyu pulls his own mask down as well, casting a glance around the people surrounding them like he needs the reassurance. There's a smile on his face when he uncovers it, small but holding steady. It's a slight surprise when one of his hands comes to cup around Minghao's cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing Minghao's cheekbone.

"How do you never get tired of dancing?" He asks, laughing softly when Minghao leans into the light touch of his hand. Their faces are pressed close to make it easier to talk, breaths mingling in the tight air between them. The atmosphere of the trapped air between their bodies is tense, drawing them closer and closer together. Mingyu slides an arm around Minghao's back and Minghao's hands form claws around Mingyu's hips.

Minghao isn't thinking about Mingyu's question. He's thinking about how even when he sneaks out to party by himself he's never felt drawn to another person like he is toward Mingyu.

"I just don't," he says, shaking his head. "Would you rather I start doing puzzles for fun like Wonwoo-hyung?"

"Maybe," Mingyu says, dipping his head closer so their lips are nearly touching. "Would you still drag me out of bed for puzzles?"

"Maybe," Minghao says, humming when Mingyu's short nails scrape over the shaved hair at the side of his head. "Maybe I wouldn't let you sleep until I finished."

"Then I guess this isn't that different," Mingyu says, pressing a soft kiss to Minghao's lips. Minghao leans up to return it, nipping the center of his lip once before breaking away with a wide grin. It's too early in the night to get distracted by kissing Mingyu; if that's all he wanted they really could've stayed in bed, curled in close and sharing the same breaths.

Mingyu doesn't look disappointed when Minghao pulls away, his long fingers curling over the back of Minghao's neck. The music pounding from the speakers around them is fast, not the kind of thing you stand still and sway to. Minghao gives Mingyu's hip a squeeze before turning around so his back is pressing to Mingyu's front.

He grabs Mingyu's wrist, pulling it to his waist before rolling his hips back against Mingyu's, this time more in time with the music. Mingyu huffs out a surprised breath, his hand going tight at Minghao's side. It takes him a moment to catch on to the fluid motion of Minghao's hips, moving his own in return, years of practice overriding his embarrassment.

Dancing like this, surrounded by countless sweaty people with their hands all over each other, is not exactly like what they've been taught to do but Minghao loves it all the same. It's a little like freestyle, where all the rules go out the window and all he has to do is _move_ and it quiets the screaming nerves in the back of his mind. Mingyu's breath slides down the side of his neck and he dips the tips of his fingers under the hem of Minghao's shirt, feeling the heat of his bare skin.

They stay like that for a few songs, Mingyu letting Minghao take the lead but always moving with him, pressed in as close as he can get. But when one song starts the fade into the next, Mingyu gently grabs Minghao's hips in both hands, spinning him around again to press a slow kiss to his mouth.

"I'm thirsty," he says when he pulls back and Minghao laughs, nodding his head. He lets Mingyu pull him away from the dance floor and over to the bar, the glass top of it lit ocean blue. He orders drinks for the both of them, his hand lingering around Minghao's wrist before letting go, and the pretty bartender does a double take, either at his face or his height, Minghao isn't sure.

Minghao leans his back against the bar while the girl mixes whatever Mingyu ordered, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling with a smile.

"This is the place Soonyoung-hyung took us, isn't it?" Minghao asks, turning to look at Mingyu, giving him a little nudge with his elbow. "The first time we went out."

"Is it?" Mingyu asks, blinking slowly and looking around. "How can you tell?"

"The ceiling has those glow in the dark stars," Minghao asks, pointing up with one finger, waiting until Mingyu looks up and then back at him to continue. "I remember those."

"I barely remember that night at all," Mingyu says, laughing, hooking one arm around Minghao's waist. "That was also the night Soonyoung-hyung got the three of us _drunk."_

It was also the night that Minghao, heartbeat thudding too hard, head swimming with soju, dragged Mingyu into one of the bathroom stalls and kissed him until his lips were numb. That's the part he remembers most; the supercharged air between them, the way they were both excited and scared and inexperienced at the same time.

He'd wanted to kiss Mingyu since the first day they met but had never been brave enough to do it. He can remember the messy aftermath even better than the kissing itself. Mingyu tiptoed around him for days and Minghao had laid in Jun's bed and told him quietly that he was scared their friendship was ruined forever.

Now, in the present, Mingyu's thumb is rubbing small circles into his hip, holding his drink in the other hand and staring up at the same starry ceiling that Minghao remembers so well.

"It was a good night," Minghao says, his eyes wandering over the profile of Mingyu's face.

"Yeah." Mingyu looks back at him, catches him staring, a wide smile breaking over his face. "It was."

**{*}**

The flight from Hong Kong to Seoul is only a few hours, but that gives Mingyu more than enough time to clean his apartment from top to bottom, take a shower, style his hair twice, and start to panic.

It's stupid, and Mingyu hates every second he spends pacing around, waiting for Minghao's cab from the airport to pull up outside. He doesn't get like this for any of the other members; there's no reason to be so nervous about seeing Minghao.

But Minghao has always been different, no matter how much Mingyu wishes otherwise.

He's by the window when Minghao steps out, so he can't help but see it. Minghao climbs out of the cab, unhurried, turning around to grab the bag being held out for him by his manager. He glances back at the building, saying something to the man still in the cab before shaking his head.

For a second Mingyu wonders where Minghao's manager might be staying. Then Minghao turns around, suitcase in hand, and looks up at the windowed exterior of Mingyu's building. His clothes are too loose and light for the chilly Seoul winter but he doesn't seem to be bothered. Mingyu's apartment is on one of the highest floors, taking up the whole thing, with access to the gardens on the roof as well, so it's too far away to see what face Minghao is making or the details of what he's wearing.

It's too far away for Minghao to be staring back at him, but Mingyu still ducks his head with a flush crossing his face like that's what Minghao is doing.

He doesn't go downstairs to meet him because that would make him seem too eager. Instead, he throws himself across the couch and scrolls through the news on his phone like he's been lying there all afternoon, not working himself into a frenzy of anticipation.

Minghao doesn't knock on the door; there's no reason for him to. Mingyu can hear him punching in the door code and the soft _click_ of the door unlocking and it makes the panic bubble up in his stomach again. He sits up as Minghao steps through the door, telling himself not to smile, trying to keep his face neutral.

"Hey," Minghao says, casual, like the room doesn't go small and airless the second he walks inside. Like he and Mingyu still talk regularly. Like they're still friends.

"Hey," Mingyu shoots back the same way.

"I wasn't sure you'd be home." Minghao nudges the door shut with his heel, setting his suitcase to the side and stepping out of his shoes. He looks down at the neat line of Mingyu's own before setting them at the end, the quick flash of a smile taking over his face before disappearing again.

"I only had shoots this morning," Mingyu says, his chest heavy with every breath he pulls in.

Minghao nods slowly, his eyes roving over the room as he walks past the entryway and into the spacious living room, leaving his suitcase behind. His hair is a little scruffy around the bangs, bleached to a pretty starlight silver and the angles of his face seem sharper than the last time Mingyu saw him, his cute baby-fat cheeks long gone.

It shouldn't be a surprise when Minghao forgoes any further small talk to climb onto the couch on top of Mingyu, his knees denting in the dark fabric, hands on Mingyu's shoulders but Mingyu still has to bite down on a surprised yelp. The angle means that for once Minghao is sitting just a little taller than him and Mingyu's stomach goes tight, studying the long column of his throat.

He could say something to try and ease the sudden wave of tension that crashes over him, making his muscles go tight and his mouth dry. He could push Minghao out of his lap and tell him to go get a nice hotel room instead. He could say they shouldn't be fooling around like teenagers the second they're in a room alone anymore.

But what Mingyu does instead is latch his teeth to the sharp angle of Minghao's jaw, dragging them over the skin until he gasps, hands sliding under the dark blazer he has on to wander up his back. The shirt he has under the blazer is soft under Mingyu’s palms and his back bows slightly into the touch. Mingyu kisses along the exposed side of his neck, never digging his teeth in enough to leave a mark. Minghao hisses softly against the shell of his ear, long fingers digging into Mingyu’s shoulders.

Mingyu doesn’t whisper how much he’s missed Minghao against the side of his throat, no matter how much he wants to.

Minghao’s knees dig into Mingyu’s hips, shifting his weight to knock Mingyu flat against the couch, looking down at him with a triumphant grin. He slides a hand up Mingyu’s chest, feeling the stiff cotton of his shirt and the polished metal buttons holding it closed. It would be easier to cope if Minghao didn’t fill him with so much _want_ that his head swims with it. Minghao bends forward, chasing a kiss from Mingyu’s mouth the first time.

Their lips meet fast and aggressive, Minghao nipping at Mingyu’s lower lip until he opens his mouth to let Minghao lick past his teeth. Mingyu grips onto the bony angles of his hips, returning the kiss with just as much bruising intent. He’s not supposed to leave any marks on Minghao, an unspoken rule between them, that doesn’t stop him from wanting to. He wants to make it that much harder for Minghao to forget him— to forget whatever it is they are to each other.

“You didn’t make plans for tonight, did you?” Minghao asks, pulling back just enough to speak against Mingyu’s lips.

Mingyu shakes his head, gripping tighter around Minghao’s hips to keep him from getting away. “No, I didn’t even tell Seokmin-ah when you were coming in.”

“Good,” Minghao says, a devious smile lighting up his face. “I wanted tonight to myself.”

He doesn’t exactly include Mingyu in that, but it seems like this is all he has in mind. He rolls his hips slowly down against Mingyu’s, the slow drag of friction making Mingyu whine out through his teeth. Minghao’s smile gets a little wider, pinching the buttons near Mingyu’s throat open, peeling the shirt away from his chest.

“You’re good with that, right?” Minghao asks, a real question underneath the teasing lift of his voice. Mingyu nods, teeth worrying the inside of his lip.

He’s powerless when it comes to Minghao. He pushes himself up on his elbows, knocking Minghao to the other side of the couch and draping his weight on top of him. He works a hand between them, nudging Minghao’s slim thighs apart with one of his knees and cupping his hand around the half-hard line of Minghao’s cock through his slacks, breathing out heavily against his collarbone.

Minghao doesn’t try to wiggle away, tilting his head back with a clipped groan. His hips lift into the friction, welcoming the hot press of Mingyu’s hand between his legs. Minghao shoves both hands under the shoulders of his shirt, pushing it off of his arms and smiling when Mingyu tosses it to the floor, letting it crumple and wrinkle in a pile next to the couch.

His fingers draw up the slight definition at Mingyu’s stomach, thumbs smoothing over Mingyu’s tanned skin, lingering. Mingyu swallows hard, his stomach twitching at the slight tickle of Minghao’s fingers.

It always ends up like this somehow when it comes to the two of them, and Mingyu is too focused on tracing the defined arch of Minghao's collarbone with his mouth to hate himself for it. He drags Minghao's blazer off his shoulders, tossing it over the back of the couch and ignoring the slightly put out huff that escapes Minghao's mouth.

"You're eager, aren't you?" Minghao says, his lips lifting into a grin when he looks down at Mingyu, dragging his fingers over the waist of Mingyu's jeans. Mingyu could point out that Minghao was the one who climbed on him and started wrestling his clothes off, but it doesn't really matter much in the long run. Mingyu presses Minghao's legs open further, one hand squeezing around his thigh, the other leg draping over the edge of the couch.

"I can find something else to do," Mingyu says, working his palm over Minghao's cock once again, pulling away when Minghao's hips arch into it. Minghao laughs, reaching up to grab Mingyu's shoulders and pull them close together, slamming another bruising kiss against Mingyu's lips.

"Don't bother," Minghao says, his voice still wicked, fingers digging into Mingyu's shoulders. Mingyu nips at Minghao's lip, pinching open the buttons of his shirt, resisting the urge to rip it open and send the expensive buttons scattering across the floor just to frustrate Minghao even more.

Like all the other times they've slept together in the last two years, Mingyu is looking for a way to get under Minghao's skin-- he wants to leave a mark that lasts. He wants to make it harder for Minghao to simply walk away and forget about him, time and again. Minghao sits up enough to make it easy for Mingyu to peel the fabric away from his back, pushing his weight forward so he's on top of Mingyu again.

Mingyu falls back against the soft couch with a little groan, gripping the back of Minghao's thighs to keep him from falling off. "Y'know, I have a bed."

Minghao hums, dragging his nails down Mingyu's chest, stopping when they reach the waist of his pants again, close to where his hips are resting on top of Mingyu's. "So?"

"There's more space—" Mingyu's words cut off with a groan when Minghao rolls their hips together, shaking his head.

"Too much work," he says, popping open the button of Mingyu's jeans, his confidence unflinching. "It's easier to just do it out here."

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, Mingyu would probably let Minghao fuck him on the floor if that's what he wanted to do. He doesn't have the heart to complain about stains on his nice furniture, not when Minghao's thumb is teasing just under the sensitive crown of his cock through his underwear, tracing the veins of Mingyu's cock, slow and deliberate. He presses toward the teasing friction of Minghao's fingers, one hand shooting out to grab his wrist when he starts to pull away.

"Just…" he doesn't finish the thought, shaking his head and giving Minghao's wrist a squeeze. Something, an emotion Mingyu hasn't seen for a long time, creeps over Minghao's face but it's gone before Mingyu can identify it.

"Has it been that long?" He asks voice light, pulling Mingyu's underwear down when Mingyu releases his arm. Mingyu shakes his head, leaning his head back with a hiss when cold air rushes over his cock for the first time. It hasn't actually been that long since the last time Mingyu got laid, but it's been too long since he was last with _Minghao,_ someone who clearly still knows his body too well.

Minghao bends forward, his spine curling at an angle that would be painful if not for his flexibility, wrapping his lips around the flushed head of Mingyu's cock without warning. Mingyu jerks, barely reigning himself in from thrusting into the wet heat of Minghao's mouth. One hand reaches out to catch in the short strands of hair at the back of his head instead, his thighs trying to clamp together. Minghao spreads them apart gently with one hand, dragging his nails down the muscle of Mingyu's thigh and leaving thin welts behind.

"Fuck, fuck," Mingyu says, his voice coming out in a harsh, low rasp. Minghao adjusts his legs, leaning his weight forward to make it easier to slip Mingyu's cock between his lips, one hand holding tight to Mingyu's thigh to try and keep him still. It doesn't help with Mingyu's natural urge to squirm, nearly knocking himself off of the couch, but it keeps him from bucking his hips up and choking Minghao on accident. He digs his nails into Minghao's scalp harder, forcing his eyes open to take in the sight of him.

Minghao's hair is stark black, bangs hanging in his eyes while he teases the tip of Mingyu's cock with his tongue. The visual is familiar and strange all at the same time and that alone shoves all the air out of Mingyu's lungs in a strangled gasp.

"Shit, c'mon," Mingyu says, shaking his head and pulling on Minghao's hair before the heat in the pit of his stomach starts to overwhelm him. Minghao pulls off of his cock with an obscene _pop,_ wiping his slick lips on the back of his hand with a grin.

"Bored already?" He asks, but his voice is a little warmer than before; it's more familiar banter rather than just teasing Mingyu to avoid having to actually talk to him. Mingyu sighs, scratching at the nape of Minghao's neck for a second before shrugging.

"Hurry up," he says because it's beyond him to admit that he's missed Minghao. For far more than just the sex.

"Fine," Minghao says, his mouth twisting like it's not sure what expression he's trying to make. He peels away from Mingyu and this time Mingyu lets him go with only a little grumble of complaint. "Get undressed."

He turns his back, walking over to his suitcase with a slight hitch in his step. Mingyu shoves his pants off and onto the floor, wiggling to try and find the most comfortable spot he can on the couch. He doesn't immediately flip over onto his stomach, though he can count on two fingers the number of times they've screwed actually facing each other. Both times they were drunk beyond all reason and it didn't matter anymore that staring up into Minghao's eyes makes Mingyu's stomach churn with too many feelings to process.

It doesn't take long for Minghao to find what he wants out of his bag; returning to the couch with a small bottle of lube and a condom in hand, setting both of them on the glass top of Mingyu's table. He pauses, staring down at Mingyu, naked and spread out on the couch, cock leaking precome onto his stomach and still wet from Minghao's mouth. Minghao's eyes scrape over his body and Mingyu can feel the weight of it, the way they linger on his thighs, his tummy, his flushed face.

The look on Minghao's face is inscrutable and Mingyu squeezes one hand into a fist. "If you're just gonna stand there I'll finish myself off."

He means it as a threat but a small smile curls on Minghao's face, kneeling between Mingyu's thighs once again, pushing them apart with a shake of his head. "You wouldn't dare."

Mingyu means to start arguing, but Minghao lifts his hips away from the couch with surprising strength, lapping over Mingyu's tight rim once and forcing a startled yelp out of his mouth. The eager attack isn't exactly a surprise; this is how things go any time they're left alone together, but Mingyu can't keep his hips from squirming like he wants to escape the overheated prodding of Minghao's tongue.

Minghao's teeth dig into his thigh, just shy of leaving a bruise behind, before he presses one last sloppy kiss to Mingyu's hole and sits up, reaching over to grab the bottle he set on the table. Mingyu almost complains, almost tries to flip over on his own, but the weight of Minghao's eyes on his face is too heavy and he can't make himself do it. He returns the stare, lips parted to pull heavy breaths into his lungs, groaning when Minghao slicks over his fingers and presses one inside.

Out of habit, Mingyu squeezes down on Minghao's finger, making a clipped groan escape his lips. He has to force himself to relax, pulling several shaking breaths in and releasing them hard. Minghao's thumb is rolling soothing circles into the outside of his hip and that must be a habit too. Minghao takes his time opening Mingyu up, pulling one of Mingyu's knees up over his shoulder to open his legs further, thrusting with just one finger until Mingyu is biting down on frustrated sounds.

"Do you need another?" He asks, and if he means to tease he fails at it. His voice is pitched low and huskier than usual and Mingyu can't tell if he means it or not. He nods his head anyway because if Minghao doesn't hurry up and get on with it he really is going to have to open himself up.

"'M good, c'mon," Mingyu says, tapping his heel against Minghao's bare back. There's the quick flash of something tender on Minghao's face, erased by focus as he slides in a second finger, stretching Mingyu's hole carefully around the both of them.

Even though it hasn't been more than a few weeks since the last time Mingyu got laid, and even though it's hardly unusual for him to sleep with Minghao whenever he's around, everything starts to feel like it's too much far too quickly. It's never been beyond Minghao to be a little rough with him and in the past Mingyu has never complained about it, but today Minghao is the opposite. He's too slow, dragging out the slide of his fingers in and out until Mingyu's thighs are shaking.

That, coupled with the way Minghao watching him is like a weight resting on Mingyu's chest, pinning him in place, makes him squirm, not sure if he wants to urge Minghao on or stop and bask in the rare attention. Minghao’s other hand smooths up and down his thigh, doing his best to soothe the trembling of Mingyu’s legs when he presses the third finger in.

Mingyu’s back arches, the couch groaning under him in protest at the movement. His leg squeezes tighter around Minghao’s shoulder, twisting in a vain effort to push Minghao’s fingers further inside. Minghao muffles a laugh, pressing his mouth against the inside of Mingyu’s knee, kissing there gently. It makes Mingyu’s stomach flip. He likes the rare gestures of affection that pass between them much more than he’s meant to. Minghao squeezes his fingers more tightly around Mingyu’s thigh, curling his fingers and brushing them over Mingyu’s prostate, the pressure just light enough to tease. Mingyu bites down on his lip to keep himself from shouting, his body jerking in frustration when Minghao’s fingers slide away.

He wants to scold Minghao to hurry up but he can’t force the words out of his mouth. He makes a pathetic little whining sound from the center of his chest instead, his fingers grasping desperately onto the couch, trying to ground himself. He makes the mistake of looking up at Minghao’s face; his wide-blown pupils, the way he has his lip trapped between his teeth, a slight red flush going from his ears down the back of his neck. 

Stupid as he is, it makes something in the middle of Mingyu’s chest go soft and molten. He shifts, dropping his leg to hitch around Minghao’s waist, shifting to pull him closer. Minghao makes a little surprised sound but it gets lost when Mingyu manages to pull him in close enough to kiss, curling his fingers in Minghao’s hair. Minghao puts one hand down next to Mingyu’s head to hold his weight up, tongue teasing past his soft palate. His pants are slightly rough against Mingyu’s bare skin but he pulls himself closer anyway, trying to force their bodies so close that he doesn’t have to think about anything else.

Minghao presses the pads of his fingers into Mingyu’s prostate once again, holding them there this time, catching the whimpering sounds that spill out of Mingyu's mouth. For once it seems like Minghao isn't going to fight him on how close they are— pressed together so tightly that Mingyu can feel the frantic beats of Minghao's heart against his chest. He slides his fingers in all the way, nipping the line of Mingyu's jaw when his head tilts back, pressing them carefully apart to stretch him further.

" _Shit,_ " Mingyu gasps, struggling to pull enough air into his lungs to speak. "You're so slow. Fuck, c'mon."

Minghao giggles, his smile hidden against the side of Mingyu's neck, sitting up and tugging his fingers free with a slick noise that makes Mingyu shiver. He wipes them off on his pants, apparently not caring about the dark streaks they leave behind, pulling the button and zipper open with a grin lingering on his face. Mingyu isn't patient enough to wait for him to undress all the way, using the leg he has wrapped around Minghao's waist to try and pull him forward.

"It's fine like that," he says in response to the way Minghao raises an eyebrow.

"Needy," Minghao says, but it hardly sounds like he's complaining. He leans, grabbing the condom from the table and tearing the plastic packaging open with his teeth, rolling it over his dick with a little sigh. Mingyu wraps his fingers around the bottle of lube before Minghao can, slicking his palm and sitting up to wrap his hand around Minghao's cock, twisting his wrist, intent on teasing Minghao a little in return. Minghao groans, arching his hips forward, lips parting when Mingyu's fingers tease the tip of his cock through the thin latex. He uses his loose grasp on Minghao's cock to guide the blunt head to his hole, dragging his fingers up his thigh and rubbing his thumb around the slick tip of his own cock, pulling it away damp and sticky with precome.

Minghao grips one hand around Mingyu's side when he slides in, eyes closing as he rolls his hips slowly forward, sinking into Mingyu patiently. Mingyu has to fight the instinct to tense around the stretch, nails digging into his own stomach, mouth open around a shaking moan that he doesn't have the presence of mind to stop. He's never been very good at keeping quiet during sex, though now that he has the whole place to himself it's not as much of a problem as it was in their cramped dorm. Still, Minghao has a slight furrow in his brow like he's only seconds away from shoving a pillow at Mingyu and telling him to keep it down.

He doesn't— he keeps pushing forward until his hips meet against Mingyu's, making his muscles burn slightly with the stretch. Mingyu isn't paying much attention to it, caught by the way Minghao's face has become something unfamiliar to him. There's still a red flush over the back of his neck, stretching now down his shoulders and his collarbone, and some of the wisps of his bangs are stuck to his forehead with sweat. He looks as good as should be expected for a model in the middle of sex; like every cologne and underwear ad, Mingyu's ever seen rolled into one. 

But he's also the same Minghao that Mingyu has known since they were sixteen. Stick skinny and fair skinned, with little moles dotted all over his torso and the suggestion of muscle on his chest and arms from his dancing and acrobatics. The dragon tattoo that he's not supposed to have is just barely visible when he ducks his head, showing the back of his shoulders, and Mingyu can't help the desire to reach out and touch it, black ink melded permanently with his skin.

It would be against some unspoken rule for Mingyu to tell Minghao that he's beautiful so he doesn't. He traces his fingers around the edge of the tattoo and nods his head a little when Minghao looks at him properly, asking for permission to move. There's still a hint of curiosity lurking in his expression but he doesn't ask any questions and Mingyu doesn't offer an explanation. Minghao's first few thrusts are slow, still giving Mingyu time to adjust all the way. He's tender even when he's not supposed to be, his fingers stroking along the cathedral arch of Mingyu's ribs. His touch is so light that Mingyu's skin breaks out in shivers.

This, probably, is why they don't fuck face-to-face anymore. Mingyu pulls Minghao in close again, arching up into the hard slap of their hips coming together, nails digging into the back of his shoulder. He's still too loud, groaning from the middle of his chest every time Minghao pushes in all the way and panting out smaller whines when he pulls back.

Mingyu doesn't have a good enough grasp on his own mind to be able to tell if he's annoying Minghao with all the noise or not. Minghao kisses him and Mingyu whines into that too, their mouths slick and messy when they meet, sharing air. Minghao is much more quiet, the most sound coming from his heavy sighs and the way he hums unevenly when Mingyu's body squeezes around him.

He used to talk a lot during sex, in a sloppy mess of Mandarin and Korean, mumbling about how good it felt, how pretty Mingyu was, how he was doing a good job taking it. Sometimes it was nonsense but most of the time Mingyu could at least understand what he was trying to say.

He's not sure if it's a habit Minghao has gotten rid of or if he just doesn't have anything to say now.

Minghao sits up enough to work one hand in between them, wrapping his fingers around Mingyu's slick cock, the nail of his thumb scraping the sensitive tip lightly. It makes Mingyu jerk, his legs trying to clamp together in spite of Minghao kneeling between them. He keeps the pace of his hips slow but harsh, bottoming out and making their skin slap together with every thrust, grinding the blunt head of his cock against Mingyu's sensitive prostate. It makes heat crackle through Mingyu's whole body, burning hot and tight in the pit of his stomach.

His skin is superheated everywhere Minghao is touching him and Mingyu wants nothing more than to throw himself into that feeling and burn up entirely. Minghao bends forward, his hand still working loose and uneven over Mingyu's cock, catching one of his nipples in his mouth, dragging it between his teeth. Mingyu twists, his voice cracking. All the sensations are overwhelming, making his limbs shake and his brain leak out of his ears. Minghao thrusts all the way in again, his wrist twisting, and Mingyu gets lost in it, coming white streaks over Minghao's fist. The way he shouts; head thrown back, voice shaking, is probably more than loud enough for his neighbours downstairs to hear but he doesn't care.

Minghao doesn't ease up his pace. His tongue drags over Mingyu's nipple, thrusting more quickly, chasing his own release while Mingyu's body squeezes tight around him in an attempt to milk it out of him. It doesn't take long— Minghao muffles the soft groan into Mingyu's chest, his lips forming the familiar shape of Mingyu's name just once.

He rocks their hips gently together, releasing Mingyu's cock when he whimpers from the sensitivity twinging in every nerve. Minghao sighs out a heavy breath, pulling out slowly and running one of his thumbs around the stretched muscles of Mingyu's hole before dragging his nails up Mingyu's trembling thighs.

There's a strange silence that settles over both of them in the aftermath. Minghao gets up on unsteady legs, going to clean his hands up and throw away the condom, and Mingyu drags his heavy body off the couch to go hide in the shower.

It'll be awhile before either of them have something to say and Mingyu doesn't get the chance to wrap all his limbs around Minghao and nuzzle into the top of his head. He doesn't get to listen to Minghao complain that they're both sweaty or hear his breath slow back down to normal.

Instead, he stands in the hot spray of the shower until the skin goes pink and does his best to pretend he doesn't miss those things.

**{∞}**

It's probably a little weird, the intensity with which Minghao is watching Mingyu get his hair done. It's not really intentional but he can feel the slight scowl resting on his face, resisting the urge to pluck at the pins carefully holding his own hair in place. They're set to perform their first comeback stage soon and Minghao is on the wrong side of bored, stretched out on the floor of their waiting room with his shoulder against Seokmin's leg where he's sitting on the couch.

He's not intentionally watching Mingyu so closely but that's where his attention has naturally settled, rather than on Seokmin watching some clip of a baby animal that Jun has saved on his phone, cooing over it every few seconds. There's an easy smile on Mingyu's face, not the practised one Minghao is used to seeing on stage, chatting animatedly with the noona working his hair into stiff peaks with her fingers.

Like always before a comeback, they were all out too late and up too early and the energy in the room is a little wired. Minghao has his headphones stuffed in his ears, the volume turned up loud to try and block out some of the chatter going on around the room. Having so many members has always meant their waiting room is noisy and spirited, no matter how early it is. He's only lucky that Seokmin and Seungkwan haven't yet decided to mess around with their ad-libs or something.

Mingyu, looking in the mirror in front of him, must notice Minghao because his eyes shift quickly to the bottom portion before darting away again. From where he's sitting, Minghao can see the way Mingyu's neck colors pink and he can't help the slight smile that lifts his lips.

It's impossible to have secrets when there are so many of them still living together and Mingyu and Minghao's relationship is no exception; it stopped being interesting news years ago. Even when a tired Mingyu got caught this morning still dozing in Minghao's bed, their limbs tangled together and confused, it's barely worth teasing the two of them for. But Minghao still likes the way Mingyu's smile goes a little bit shy, standing when the noona working on his hair releases him.

He drops to sit next to Minghao, plucking one of the earbuds out of Minghao's ear and placing it in his own. They don't have an attached wire that forces the two of them to lean close together but Mingyu leans his chin on Minghao's shoulder anyway, careful not to let his still sticky hair touch the side of Minghao's face.

"What language is this in?" Mingyu asks after a moment, his nose wrinkling when he laughs.

"It's French," Minghao says, wiggling his phone out of his pocket to show Mingyu the title of the song. Mingyu rolls his eyes, one of his arms stretching out behind Minghao's shoulders. "It's cool, isn't it?"

"You have weird taste," Mingyu says, grinning still when he hands the phone back. Minghao shrugs at that, careful not to knock Mingyu's head away, smiling a little wider himself.

"Better than yours," he says, teasing in return. Across the room, Chan is laughing at a baffled looking Hansol and when he rolls his body to the side he almost lands on top of Jeonghan, asleep with his head pillowed by one of Seungcheol's thighs. He lifts one hand to swat at where Chan was a moment ago, his eyes still closed.

After so many years, all the chaos has become a comforting thing. Even though Minghao's tired he can't find it in himself to be annoyed anymore. It's been a long time since he's had to feel lonely or isolated the way he did when he first came to Korea and could barely string a sentence together without Jun's help.

Mingyu jerks away from leaning comfortably against Minghao's side when Seokmin's cold fingers press into the back of his neck, flailing one arm behind him to swat Seokmin away.

"How are you so cold?" Mingyu whines, the palm of his hand still pressed to the back of his neck, sulking up at Seokmin. Seokmin just laughs, holding up the bottle of water he has tucked into the couch next to him, cool condensation sticking to the cheap plastic. Minghao giggles and Mingyu gives him the same petulant look in response.

"You're both bullies," he says, punching Seokmin in the side of the leg. Still, he returns to his original position of leaning against Minghao, this time putting his shoulder against Seokmin's knee. Seokmin pitches forward, draping his arms over them both, pressing his ear close to Minghao's to try and pick up on the music.

"Oh, it's this song again," he says and Minghao nods, tilting his head to try and make it easier for Seokmin to hear. The last time Seokmin decided he liked a song Minghao was into lately he sang it so often that Minghao couldn't stand listening to it anymore. But the smile on his face is vibrant and sweet and it's hard to tell him no. Mingyu is still pouting just a little, probably because neither of them rushed to comfort him in the first place, and it raises the desire in Minghao’s chest to lean over and steal a kiss.

He has enough sense not to— even if their relationship is a boring topic to the members there are too many people drifting in and out of their waiting room to take that risk. Rookie groups coming to give them CDs and greet them, stylists and makeup artists calling them off to get ready to go on stage, managers and show staff.

Still, as far as Minghao is concerned, they aren’t too old to sneak into one of the dressing rooms or a supply closet and kiss until one of the members comes to find them.

There must be something from his thoughts showing on his face because Seokmin wrinkles his nose, sitting up and swatting at the back of Minghao’s head. “Don’t be gross.”

“Ya!” He says, whipping around with a glare on his face. “What’s with you?”

“You’re thinking about sticking your tongue down Mingyu’s throat,” Seokmin says, as bright and loud as ever. “Quit it.”

“I am not,” Minghao says, in spite of the flush he can feel on the back of his neck. Mingyu giggles, hiding it badly behind one of his big hands, and Minghao is suddenly struck by the urge to smack the both of them.

But there’s a little flush on Mingyu’s face as well and it doesn’t escape Seokmin’s notice either. He wrinkles his nose, standing up to find someone else to bother, already drifting in Soonyoung’s direction. “Don’t get in trouble.”

Minghao smirks, reaching one hand out to grab Mingyu’s wrist and pull him along, ignoring the slight resistance he gives. They have a while yet before they have to go on stage and if anyone does miss them, one of the other members always insists on being the one to go looking.

Still, Mingyu glances around nervously before Minghao slams shut the heavy door of the dressing room, twisting the lock behind him. Minghao can see the way he’s fighting a smile, trying to look put out.

“You’re determined to get us in trouble,” Mingyu says, laughing when Minghao backs him up against the far wall of the dressing room, his back pressing into the tall mirror that occupies the wall.

“What makes you say that?” Minghao says, leaning on his toes to kiss Mingyu before he can answer. Mingyu’s hands come to rest at his waist naturally and Minghao smiles, chasing another kiss when Mingyu tries to lean his head back.

“First, you make me come clubbing with you,” Mingyu says, his hands grasping at Minghao’s hips, pulling him closer rather than trying to push him away. “And now you’re trying to make out with me in public.”

“Trying,” Minghao says, rolling his eyes. “You’re making it hard.”

Mingyu laughs, the sound catching in his throat when Minghao leaves off trying to chase his lips to kissing his neck instead. “You’re the worst.”

“It’s a little late to complain about that, don’t you think?” Minghao says, his lips brushing over Mingyu’s clavicle as he speaks.

“Maybe,” Mingyu says, his voice more unsteady than before.

“We’re already in here, anyway,” Minghao continues, scraping his teeth gently over Mingyu’s skin. He knows better than to bite down and risk leaving a mark that might get missed by a makeup artist and show on stage. People wouldn’t think to connect it back to him but it wouldn’t do any good to start a rumor about it.

Mingyu’s fingers dig harder into Minghao’s lower back and he gives up arguing, leaning his head back against the mirror to let Minghao kiss and nibble at the golden skin of his neck, his breath coming in short, shallow gusts.

 

They don’t have the time to do anything more than kiss, but that’s fun on its own. Minghao drags his fingers over Mingyu’s ribs and fits a knee between his thighs and Mingyu grips him by the waist, little groans vibrating against Minghao’s lips.

When someone knocks hard on the door they leap apart like startled cats and Minghao giggles, unable to help himself. He creaks the door open, grinning at Joshua’s less than impressed face looking back at him.

“Hi, hyung,” he says, more amused than shy. Mingyu makes an awkward coughing sound behind him, trying and failing to keep quiet.

“The stylists want us to start getting dressed,” Joshua says, the annoyance on his face quickly giving way. Minghao nods, trying to school his face into order.

“Sure thing,” he says, reaching back to grasp around Mingyu’s wrist. “Now?”

“Now,” Joshua says, the corners of his lips tilting up. He’s just as prone to mischief as Jeonghan is, after all. Minghao laughs, swinging the door open all the way and dragging Mingyu out behind him.

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, the back of his neck red, ducking his head. Before the door shuts, Minghao can hear the sound of Joshua laughing as well.

**{*}**

"I wish you'd quit letting yourself in," Jihoon says, not breaking eye contact with the screen of his computer when Mingyu pushes open the door to his studio. There's no real heat in his voice but Mingyu isn't particularly worried about it anyway. If Jihoon didn't want him to show up every now and then, he wouldn't have given Mingyu the door code.

He tosses himself onto the couch to the side of the room with a little hum, crossing his arms over his chest and stretching out. Jihoon spares a quick glance over at him before looking back at the screen, a frown on his face. "What?"

"Don't worry about it," Mingyu says, not trying to temper the sulky note in his voice. "You're working."

Jihoon's frown gets a little bit deeper. "Did you come over here to pout about that reporter?"

"No," Mingyu says, rolling his eyes, resisting the urge to try and find something to toss at Jihoon to get his full attention. "We broke up a month ago."

"And you're still stuck on it?" Jihoon asks, his attention drifting away once again. Mingyu throws his head back with a loud groan.

"No!" He says, rolling his head to the side to look at Jihoon still. "You're no help with troubles of the heart anyway, hyung."

Jihoon scoffs, finally pulling himself out of his work to look at Mingyu properly, raising his eyebrows. "Then why do you keep coming here and complaining to me?"

"Because Seungkwan-ah just laughs at me and Seungcheol-hyung makes me feel guilty," Mingyu says, giving Jihoon a little smile. "And you're a good listener, at least."

"What can I change about myself to make you stop saying that?" Jihoon says, but Mingyu can see the way he's fighting down a little smile. "So what's the problem this time?"

Mingyu pauses, chewing on his thoughts for a moment. "Minghao's in Seoul."

Jihoon immediately sighs, burying his face in his hands and shutting his eyes. "Not this again."

"Not what again?" Mingyu says, sitting up with an indignant whine, even though he knows full well what Jihoon means. Their hot and cold relationship has been a problem since Minghao moved back to Hong Kong and left him in the lurch with too many unresolved feelings in his heart. It's not like Mingyu can cut Minghao out of his life, and it seems like he's no more capable of keeping his hands off of him either.

"Did you leave him sleeping in your bed again?" Jihoon asks, cutting straight to the point the way only he seems to be able to. Mingyu's face flushes pink but he shakes his head, clearing his throat.

"He had to leave early this morning for a meeting," Mingyu says, wishing it weren't so easy for people to see straight through him.

"You know what my answer is," Jihoon says, shaking his head and pulling the cap off of his head, setting it on the desk and pushing his fingers back through his overgrown bangs. "If you wanna be friends you gotta quit fucking him every time you see him."

"I'm not _trying_ to sleep with him all the time," Mingyu says, flopping back onto the couch with a sigh. "It just... happens. He's the one who started it."

"You could tell him no," Jihoon says, his voice flat and unimpressed. "Like a normal person."

Privately, Mingyu thinks that Jihoon can only be so black and white about it because he's never slept with Minghao, but he keeps that to himself. He has no desire to get kicked out once again.

"I just want us to be normal again," Mingyu says, looking up at the ceiling instead of at Jihoon. The studio space he's in now is new but nice, outfitted with the computer set up exactly the way he likes it and walls painted a stony gray. It's a little more minimal than his last studio, with a bookshelf full of all the albums he's produced songs for and a keyboard against the other wall but missing Jihoon's personal touches; all the anime merchandise and cute good luck charms that other people have given him. It's only a matter of time before those things find their way back in, Mingyu figures.

"No, you don't," Jihoon says, sighing. "You _want_ to be dating him but neither of you will admit it."

"That's not it," Mingyu says, curling in on himself a little. "I'm not in love with Minghao anymore."

Jihoon stares at him for a long moment, blinking slowly, waiting. Mingyu's face flushes but he shakes his head hard.

"I'm not!" He says, whining. "I haven't been for a long time."

"Right," Jihoon says, heaving out a long sigh. "That's why you sleep with him every single time you see him and then come here and cry about how you two never talk anymore."

"We _don't_ talk anymore," Mingyu mumbles, more bitterly than he means to. Over the past two years, he's come up with all sorts of reasons why: Minghao likes his new life as a pretty model in Hong Kong better, Mingyu said something horribly wrong the last time they talked, Minghao's been sucked into some kind of organized crime and he doesn't want Mingyu to find out about it. 

Or, more plausible and more awful, they weren't really as close as Mingyu thought they were.

Jihoon is right about one thing: he's never been the most emotionally intuitive out of all of them. He shoves the cap back on his head with a harsh sigh, giving Mingyu a glare. "There's no way you're this stupid."

"You could be at least a little nice to me," Mingyu says, pulling one of Jihoon's throw pillows against his chest and hugging it there. "I got dumped last month, you know."

"Because you're in love with Minghao," Jihoon says, rolling his eyes. "You keep dating other people so you can just ignore it. That's why none of your relationships work out."

That stings more than Mingyu's expecting and he sets the pillow to the side, feeling more deflated than when he came in. He sits up, doing his best to put a cheery expression back on his face but failing miserably. "I'll let you get back to work, hyung."

Jihoon blinks twice at him then groans. "Shit. That's not what I mean."

"It's fine," Mingyu says, smiling weakly. As much as he'd like to argue, Jihoon is right. There's a central factor to the way all of Mingyu's romantic endeavors fall apart around him. Even if he won't admit that he still has feelings for Minghao, whatever he does have has kept him from seeing anyone for more than a few months at a time.

"I just mean you're hung up on him," Jihoon says, leaning his arm on the surface of his desk, tugging on his fingers the way he does when he's nervous. "You might not want to admit to it but other people can tell when you're not all there."

"It's not like I want things to be like this," Mingyu says, leaning his elbows on his knees and slumping over. "He used to be my best friend. And now…"

Mingyu trails off, frowning down at the floor. Minghao was a lot more than his best friend; he was the first person Mingyu ever fell in love with for real. Not the older girls he would take on shy, awkward dates when he was a trainee and swear he wanted to marry, and not the first boy he kissed in a dark corner of his middle school after soccer practice who he thought about for years after.

"Now everything is just a mess," Mingyu finishes, sighing.

Jihoon shifts in his seat, uncomfortable with so much emotion.

"Sorry," Mingyu says, doing his best to actually mean it. He pushes himself up off the couch, planning on actually letting Jihoon get back to what he was working on. He's almost dreading going back to his own apartment, unsure if Minghao will already be back from his early morning meeting or not. He didn't think to really ask anything about Minghao's schedule while they were eating and making awkward small talk, or when they eventually crashed together into Mingyu's bed.

Jihoon seems stuck on what to say, still tugging on one of his fingers. He clears his throat a little, putting on his practiced Interview Voice. "Things'll work out eventually."

Mingyu decides it's better not to ask if he really believes that or not, waving as he lets himself back out.

**{*}**

“I have to get up so early tomorrow,” Minghao says, helping himself to space in Mingyu’s bed with a long groan. Mingyu isn’t sure if the shirt he’s wearing is one of his own or one of Mingyu’s, and he isn’t sure if he wants to ask at this point. It hangs loosely on him anyway, the hem draping past his sharp hips and over his skinny thighs.

“For your flight back?” Mingyu asks, the words reluctant to leave his mouth. Minghao hums, stretching his body out over the dark sheets of Mingyu’s bed, back arching like a cat. 

It always comes down to this. Mingyu is quiet in a helpless kind of way, wrestling the part of himself that wants to beg Minghao to move his flight and stay just a little bit longer. It’s a stupid, impossible request and Mingyu knows it. Their separate careers keep them too busy for anything like that. Even with Minghao staying in his apartment for the past few days it’s hardly felt like he was there at all. He’s been just as busy running off for meetings and photo shoots and lunches with Seokmin that Mingyu wasn’t invited to as Mingyu has been memorizing scripts for variety shows and going to shoots for the goofy web drama he’s signed up for.

But for as little time as they’ve spent together, Mingyu knows that tomorrow he’ll miss Minghao when he’s gone. It’s like this every time— the awareness of it now sticks like a bone in his throat. Of the two of them, he’s always been the most open with his feelings, if only because he never learned how to lie about them very well.

He flops over on the bed next to Minghao, closer than he has to be with the size of it. It’s an indulgence after years of twin-sized mattresses and he still sleeps with his legs curled toward his chest out of habit. He drapes one arm over Minghao’s waist, heavy and lazy, searching for something to say. It isn’t as simple as telling Minghao that he’ll miss him; it would violate the rules of their relationship. They act like they weren’t ever anything more to each other than this and Mingyu isn’t sure what would happen if he stopped playing along.

“How was Min-ah?” Mingyu asks finally, his body curled close to Minghao’s, lips pressing the exposed edge of his neck. Minghao doesn’t fight him on the intimacy of it, the hand he has stretched out across the bed lifting to pet through the back of Mingyu’s hair.

“Fine,” Minghao says, tilting his chin back to look up at the high ceiling of Mingyu’s bedroom. “You see him more than I do.”

Mingyu nods, the bridge of his nose rubbing against the side of Minghao’s neck. Minghao shifts, but rather than wiggling away he rolls himself on top of Mingyu, knees pressing into the bed on either side of his waist, head leaning slightly to the side. Mingyu can’t read the look on his face and bites the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his breathing normal.

It’s not exactly strange— most of what they’ve done while Minghao’s been in Seoul has been fool around and avoid talking to each other, but the look Minghao is giving him is different this time. Like he’s trying to stare his way straight into Mingyu’s skull. Mingyu swallows hard twice, trying to clear the lump forming in the back of his throat. Something about Minghao's gaze makes him incredibly nervous.

"Hey," Mingyu mumbles awkwardly after Minghao continues to stare at him without saying anything. He's not sure if Minghao is planning on kissing him or trying to read his mind and it's unsettling.

"Hey," Minghao responds, a slight scowl still on his face.

"I think I need to do something different," Minghao says, his gaze still intense. Mingyu isn't sure he really knows what that means but he nods his head anyway, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Minghao's knee.

"Like what?" He asks, licking his lips.

"I'm still figuring it out," Minghao says, the corners of his lips inching toward a smile. "It's just time for a change, y'know?"

Mingyu nods, even though he's not sure he knows what they're really talking about. It can be hard to tell with Minghao; his mind through churns through problems in a way Mingyu doesn't know how to follow. It used to be refreshing, if sometimes frustrating, that they would arrive at different answers constantly. Their opinions kept them balanced; always trying to talk through things together, even when they would fight.

But now there's so much distance between them that Mingyu isn't comforted by it. He just feels lost, left even further behind Minghao and wondering over and over what he should do about it. He doesn't know how they got here, or what questions he's supposed to ask. He's just looking up at Minghao with a dumb expression, holding one of his legs lightly.

Minghao's expression changes and the familiar softness of it makes Mingyu's breath catch in his throat. He opens his mouth to say something else then seems to think better of it, closing it again softly and shaking his head before leaning down and pressing his lips to Mingyu's.

In the morning, Mingyu will wake up to the sound of Minghao's alarm but pretend to be asleep when Minghao slips out of his bed. He won't say goodbye or tell Minghao that he'll be missed. He tells himself it's not because he's too afraid to but because there's no point to it; Mingyu has always been too easy to read and Minghao must know all these things already.

It's a poor excuse, still, for the way Mingyu slides his hand under the long shirt Minghao has on, mapping out the delicate bones of his back rather than saying anything else.

**{∞}**

In general, Minghao doesn't pay this much attention to their monthly team meetings. They don't require that much of his personal input and he spends most of the time either messing around with his phone or dozing off on Jun's shoulder, lulled by the way he rocks his body slightly when he listens. He's not the only one, either. Most of the time, group meetings involve the hyungs working things out between themselves and the rest of them caught between distraction and napping.

This time, however, all of them are fully alert and on edge. The cramped living room of their dorm is covered wall-to-wall with members. It seems like it shrinks every time they have one of these meetings, leaving less space for them to sit anywhere but on top of each other. As it is, Minghao has his arm over Seokmin's shoulders, tucking the much broader boy against his chest, and his legs thrown over Chan's lap. Soonyoung is wedged on the couch next to them, his fingers tickling in Seokmin's hair. Seungcheol is sitting in the big recliner the way he always does, but he's by himself this time, without Jeonghan hanging off of him or Mingyu trying to jostle him out of the spot.

It's March 1st, and the tension in the air around them is so thick Minghao is surprised they aren't all suffocating from a lack of oxygen in the room. 

"I know we all know this," Seungcheol says, deliberate and serious. "But we only have a month until the expiration of our contract."

Even Wonwoo doesn't open his mouth to correct Seungcheol and blurt out the proper date. There's a deadly quiet settled over them; this is probably the only time they've all sat in one room and soaked in a moment of silence. Seungcheol sighs, leaning back in the seat and giving his head a little shake, long bangs getting caught in his long eyelashes.

"We haven't talked much about it yet," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I can't be sure what the company is going to want to do."

Soonyoung must tighten his grasp on Seokmin's hair because he hisses softly and Soonyoung pulls his hand back. Seungcheol doesn't seem to notice, obviously taking the time to choose his words with care. 

"Everyone will have the chance to negotiate their contract individually," he says, and it's obvious from the weight of his voice that whatever he's about to say is costing him something. Save for Jihoon, Seungcheol has made his entire life about supporting their group more than anyone else. Minghao can't wrap his mind around how difficult it must be to face this situation as the leader, carrying the heaviest burden on his shoulders alone.

Minghao can barely wrap his mind around it, to begin with.

"You don't have to share your plans with anyone else... in fact the legal team has asked us not to since it could lead to more pressure for some members," Seungcheol says, his eyes sweeping over the room for a moment, taking the time to make sure he has all of their attention. "But all I'm asking that before anyone makes any big choices, please come talk to me first."

"Big choices like what?" Hansol pipes up, his face creased slightly in confusion. Seungkwan rolls his eyes, swatting the back of Hansol's head gently.

"He means if anyone wants to leave," Seungkwan says, maybe a little too plainly. There's an uncomfortable ripple through the room and Seungkwan glances behind him before shaking his head. "That's the only big choice, isn't it?"

"Yes," Seungcheol says quickly, trying to keep them from losing focus. "That's what I mean."

Minghao does what the rest of them do; shooting quick glances around the room like he might be somehow able to sense if anyone around him is planning on walking away. It's a hard idea to stomach; not one that Minghao has really considered for himself. In the last 8 years, he's come to think of the other members as his family. He can't picture what a different life would be like— he's not talented enough to have a successful solo career and his pursuits outside of the idol lifestyle haven't been for anything other than having fun and expressing himself. He's wrapped his whole life up in Seventeen. Returning to Anshan with no plans on ever seeing the rest of them again has been lingering in his nightmares for weeks.

Seungcheol's right: they all knew this was coming.

"I'm not here to talk anyone out of what they think is best for them," Seungcheol says, grabbing the attention of the room once again. "But I'd like a sense of where everyone's head is at before we start negotiating with the company."

Minghao catches himself leaning forward as much as he can with Seokmin's warm weight against his shoulder, trying to catch Mingyu's eyes. He's stretched half on Jihoon's lap, no longer subject to the look of disgust that Jihoon was giving him at the beginning of the meeting when he made himself comfy with one arm draped lazily over Jihoon's thigh, long legs stretched out across the floor. But Mingyu isn't looking at him in return, his focus still magnetized to Seungcheol.

There's another long, long moment of silence before Seungcheol frowns slightly. "That's all. If you haven't been thinking about this already, it's a good time to start now."

For once they don't linger around to argue about who should get more cola or who should be paying for takeout more often or put their individual schedules on the big calendar that still hangs in the kitchen even if they don't all live in the dorm anymore.

People are slow to file out, going in little groups like always. Seokmin gets dragged off by Soonyoung who has one of those moody looks on his face. Jihoon shoves Mingyu off to go say something low and intense to Seungcheol before pulling him out of the room by the corner of his sleeve. Joshua and Jeonghan are teasing Chan like the weight of the world can't affect them.

Minghao is about to push himself up to try and grab Mingyu's attention before someone else does only to get caught under one of Jun's long, bony arms. He smiles, too big and too close. "Let's go for a walk."

 

Being the only two Chinese members has always tied Jun and Minghao together, for better or worse, and Minghao grunts out an agreement. It's warm enough that they don't need to grab heavy coats, stepping into their shoes and slipping out the door without anyone else asking where they're going. It's not a surprise— in spite of what Seungcheol had to say, there's no way they'll all be making decisions about the contracts without talking to each other. It might be prudent legal advice, but it's never been the way they function as a group.

Jun keeps his arm wound around Minghao's shoulders, delicate goosebumps rising on his skin from the cool spring breeze.

"Are you worried?" Jun asks once they've turned a few corners away from the dorm. The neighborhood they live in is posh and busy but they go unnoticed, or at least unacknowledged.

"Be stupid not to be," Minghao says, shrugging but not pulling away from Jun. "It's not like any of us know what's going to happen."

"You could be a little optimistic," Jun says, a teasing note to his voice. Minghao can't help but roll his eyes, even though he wouldn't mind borrowing a little bit of Jun's positive outlook in this situation.

He anticipates the question coming before Jun asks, but he still stays quiet until they reach the quiet trail that leads down to the Han river, shoes crunching over the gravel.

"Do you want to stay?"

As sure of it as he feels, Minghao still takes a minute to think it over, pausing to lean forward and examine one of the early wildflowers just starting to peek its head out of the ground. It would make a nice picture if he thought to bring his camera. Jun is patient, standing two feet away with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, head tilted back to look at the sky.

"Yeah," Minghao says, standing up again and giving his head a little shake. "I don't know what else I'd do."

"Could be lots of things," Jun says, still looking up at one of the thick clouds drifting overhead. "It's not good to limit yourself."

Minghao's heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. "Do you?"

Of all the things that Minghao would admit Wen Junhui is good at— gladly or reluctantly— lying isn’t one of them.

“I haven’t thought much about it,” Jun says, pulling his attention away from the sky and back to Earth. But his smile is too small and it doesn’t reach his eyes right. The cheery sparkle that used to help Minghao through his hard trainee days is still there, but it’s a little dimmer, a little tired.

He remembers the dinner he had with Sicheng before it was announced he was leaving SM to join a modeling agency in Beijing, startling and unbidden in his mind. It made sense; he’d spent too long running alongside the rest of his group and only making it half the distance. At the time, Minghao had thought their careers were far apart, he’s never been left behind his group the way Sicheng was.

Jun’s long fingers worry the hem of his shirt and another cold breeze rattles by them. Minghao scowls at the ground and doesn’t say anything else, turning and walking back in the direction of the dorm.

When he’d asked, Sicheng was so sure that NCT could carry on without missing him and Minghao didn’t know enough to say if that was true or not.

They walk back in silence and Minghao can feel the tremors starting to shake the steady ground under his feet.

**{*}**

Mingyu goes out to eat with Seokmin as often as he can manage. He's still the closest friend from Seventeen that Mingyu has, and his energy has always made him fun to be around. And Mingyu could use some of that fun right now to get him through his latest funk of missing Minghao.

It's silly to still be sad about it, especially two weeks after Minghao went back to living his own life, but Mingyu always struggles to let go of things.

So when Seokmin drops to sit at the small table across from him with a bright smile on his face, Mingyu is quick to shoot one back, trying to keep his mind as far away from his own troubles as possible.

"I didn't think I'd see you for awhile," Seokmin says, already helping himself to the bowl of pickled radishes Mingyu has in front of him, leaning his head to the side. His bangs are a little longer than the last time Mingyu saw him, brushing the tops of his eyebrows.

"Why?" Mingyu asks, furrowing his eyebrows with a little laugh. Even when both of their schedules keep them busy, he and Seokmin have always managed to find time for one another.

"I figured you'd be spending every waking moment with Minghao-ya," Seokmin says, his eyebrows lifting suggestively and disappearing under his bangs. Mingyu blinks at him.

"He's back in Hong Kong," he says, figuring Seokmin probably just forgot or got confused about it. But Seokmin gives him a confused look in return, setting the little bowl down and frowning.

"Minghao?" He says, tracing a nervous circle on the table with one finger. "Xu Minghao?"

"Yes, the one we're friends with," Mingyu says, rolling his eyes. "He was only here for like a week."

"Yeah, to pick out an apartment," Seokmin says, laughing. "I helped him find a nice place. He's already moved in."

All this takes a long, long moment to process in Mingyu's brain. "What?"

"Like, last week," Seokmin says, his lips drawing into a concerned line. "I thought you knew about all of this."

"I don't," Mingyu says, his mouth feeling strangely numb. "He didn't even say why he was coming to Seoul."

"He got a new contract with an agency here," Seokmin says, rubbing the back of his neck. "They even offered to let him be the creative director of a new line... he's been really excited about it."

"Oh," Mingyu says, feeling like all the air has been kicked out of him.

"He didn't tell you," Seokmin says, the corner of his lip trapped between his teeth. Mingyu shakes his head, his hand on top of the table curling into a tight fist.

It's an all too familiar feeling when it comes to Minghao: Mingyu is always the last one to know what's on his mind. He tries to swallow down all the hurt, old and new, but it bubbles in his stomach and refuses to stay. It's hardly the first time that Minghao decided to leave Mingyu in the dark, but it hurts more knowing that he was making these plans and sleeping in Mingyu's bed, wiggling away when he thought Mingyu was still asleep so they wouldn't wake up wrapped in each other's arms.

He hangs his head forward with a long sigh, covering his face with his palms and shutting his eyes tight.

"I'm sorry," Seokmin says, his voice meek. "I thought you knew about all of this."

Mingyu just shakes his head slowly, weighed down by his own misery. He wonders if Minghao thought he somehow wouldn't find out or if he just didn't care if Mingyu knew or not. It's all the confirmation he didn't want that he's the only one still holding on to the past.

Whatever he and Minghao were to each other once upon a time, obviously they aren't any longer.

"You should call him," Seokmin says, even though that's the last thing that Mingyu wants to do. What's he even supposed to say? No one else has ever been quite so good at making an idiot out of him as Xu Minghao.

"If he wanted to hear from me he would've told me himself," Mingyu says, the bitterness in his voice laid bare. Maybe with anyone other than Seokmin he would feel bad for it, but no one else has had the same front row seat to all the ups and downs Mingyu and Minghao have put each other through over the years.

Seokmin pauses for a moment, thinking it over, tapping his fingers on top of the table. Mingyu isn't sure if the pressure building up in the center of his chest means he wants to scream or cry— probably some combination of the two. Mingyu does his best to put on a smile when the waitress takes their order and Seokmin asks her for an extra bottle of soju with a brilliant smile.

"He must've told you awhile ago, huh?" Mingyu says, staring down at the table, allowing himself to linger on the topic. Seokmin gives him a look like he’s not sure if he should answer or not but after a moment he sighs, shaking his head.

“Maybe a month?” He says, leaning to the side when he thinks. “I got the sense it happened pretty fast.”

Mingyu nods, slumping over the table and sighing dramatically once again.

Even Seokmin offering to pay for the food and plying him with enough beer and soju to get the both of them tipsy isn’t enough to get Mingyu to leave his dark mood behind.

He falls down onto his couch with a sigh, his stomach still rolling a little uncertainly.

He’s not sure what leads to him pulling his phone out and opening the long-neglected text chain with Minghao. The last few messages are from weeks ago, nothing more than Mingyu asking if Minghao had eaten already.

**(mingyu):** _you moved??_

Mingyu isn’t really expecting to get an answer; it’s late and he simply stretches his legs out across the couch and closes his eyes, hoping to drift off to sleep before he has to spend any more time thinking about just how sad he is. But he’s jolted away from the edge of sleep by his phone vibrating in his hand.

**(hao):** _ya. Last week._

Leaning his head back over the arm of the couch, blowing out a long sigh.

**(mingyu):** _why didn’t you tell me_

The little symbol next to the message turns blue, meaning Minghao opened it, but he doesn’t start typing out an answer by the time Mingyu does drift off to sleep.


	2. all the love we had and lost

It wouldn’t take a detective to find out that things aren’t going well. Even for Seungkwan and Seokmin, who try to keep away from trouble and brighten the mood for the rest of them don’t seem to be immune to the tense atmosphere that begins to haunt their dorm when the contract negotiations start.

Minghao expected that their individual plans would hardly stay secret for long, but to his surprise, no one seems eager to talk about what they’re thinking of doing. After his talk with Jun, Minghao isn’t sure what he should do either. Life without the other members around him is still hard, almost impossible, for him to imagine but it seems like no matter what the small family they have carved out won’t stay intact forever.

His suspicions are only confirmed when he drifts past Seungcheol in intent conversation with one of the managers, standing in the doorway outside of the practice room. Minghao, just around the corner of the staircase, means to turn around and go back the way he came but something about the low rumble of Seungcheol’s voice keeps him in place.

“I’ve had three of them come and talk to me,” he says, his voice carrying just a little. Minghao hesitates, his foot hovering over the next upward step before he pulls it back, leaning against the wall to peek around the corner.

Seungcheol has his back against the wall, the broad line of his shoulders filling the narrow space of the stairwell. He’s bent slightly forward like his body is too heavy for him to hold up alone.

“No one’s confirmed anything yet,” he says, lifting his head to look at the manager with a little scowl. “But I don’t know if I can make them all stay.”

Minghao’s stomach sinks, gripping the steel railing under his hand until his knuckles start to ache. At least one of them has to be Jun but he can’t help but wonder who else might be thinking of going their own way.

It scares him in a way that’s sharp and unfamiliar. It’s the same fear he felt walking into the building the first time, wondering if he’d be able to even make the cut. It’s the same fear he felt as the last member of Seventeen to join; missing all the old jokes and the relationships people had already built with each other.

All the old fears that kept him up at night, smothering silent tears into his pillow, have begun creeping up from the bottom of his heart once again.

“Do you think you can keep going with 10 of you?” She asks, reaching to tuck a long lock of hair behind her ear. The question makes Seungcheol frown, seeming to sink further into himself, shoulders beginning to creep up around his ears.

“I’m not sure,” he says, shaking his head slowly side to side. “It’s possible but we would all have to decide together.”

The manager hums and Minghao leans back from peeking against the wall, trying to make sure he isn’t caught listening in like a child. There’s a thick lump building in his throat and forgetting all about his plan to actually use the practice room, Minghao turns and climbs up the stairs, trying to keep his steps as quiet as he can.

“Ah, hyung weren’t you going downstairs?” Chan asks, taking Minghao by surprise. He jolts, stopping and turning to look at him with a loose shrug of his shoulders.

“I think someone’s in there,” he says, shaking his head quickly. “I was gonna get some food instead.”

He wasn’t exactly planning on that, but he doesn’t want to send Chan off to the same awkward conversation he walked in on. Chan nods, adjusting the loose beanie on his head and following Minghao back out the tall glass doors.

As he walks, he can feel Chan stealing glances over at him and he’s not sure what expression he must be making. It’s obvious that Chan is worried and Minghao isn’t sure if he’s to blame for it or if it’s just the natural sense Chan has for what they’re all feeling.

But he waits until they’re seated in the small cafe around the corner to say anything, which Minghao is sort of glad for. “Are you worried about the contracts still, hyung?”

“It’s hard not to be, isn’t it?” He says, smiling just a little. It’s strained— it’s hard to make the expression sit right on his face. Chan leans forward, his arms on the table, casting his eyes to the side like he’s worried about someone overhearing him.

“I know Seungcheol-hyung said we shouldn’t talk about it,” Chan says, pitching his voice low and soft. “I got offered a solo contract by a different company.”

There’s a thudding in Minghao’s head and it takes him a moment to realize it’s the heavy beating of his own heart.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it,” Chan says, shaking his head.

“Did you talk to Seungcheol-hyung about it?” Minghao asks, feeling detached from his body. Chan nods, slumping down a little.

“He said he couldn’t tell me what to do,” Chan says, sighing. Minghao nods along, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

Minghao isn't sure he can really tell Chan what he should be doing either.

"I don't think you're the only one looking at other options," he says instead, scratching the back of his head. He hasn't asked if Jun has gone looking for a different contract, or even if he really made up his mind about leaving and he's still too scared of what those answers might be to go looking.

Not to mention Seungcheol said three members had talked to him about leaving and Minghao doesn't know who the third person could even be. Chan gives him a skeptical look like he's trying to figure out if Minghao is talking about himself or not.

"I'm gonna stay," Minghao says, looking down at the table. He tries to make it sound like his mind is more made up than it really is because staying is what he wants to do, even if he's not sure it'll be an option in the long run.

"Really?" Chan says, biting his lip. "I thought you and Jun-hyung might both go back home."

"It feels more like home when I'm here," Minghao says, shrugging his shoulders with a little sigh. "I don't know about Jun-hyung though."

Chan nods his head, leaning back in his seat, his lower lip stuck out in a thoughtful little pout. "I don't wanna upset anyone."

For as much as they tease Chan for being the youngest member, he's always had a surprisingly mature mind. It's rare to see him act so young and vulnerable. But the rift he's facing is obvious on his face and as much as Minghao wants to see the family that he's built with the other members last through this, he reaches out and pats the back of Chan's hand softly.

"You're always gonna be our maknae," Minghao says, swallowing down his own fears. "Even if you do go with another company."

"Thanks, hyung," he says, a slow smile picking up on his face.

"Do you want me to treat you to some coffee?"

"Of course," Chan says, his face brightening immediately. "That's why I came here with you."

**{*}**

Soonyoung's invitation to some see a photography exhibit with him should probably make Mingyu suspicious. It isn't that Soonyoung is incapable of appreciating art, but wandering around a gallery and eating tiny finger foods isn't exactly his idea of a good time. He's got too much energy to spare.

But Mingyu could use the distraction and when he shows up at the address that Soonyoung sent to his phone, he's almost surprised to find out there is actually a photography exhibition going on and that he's not just grossly overdressed so Soonyoung can take pictures of him and laugh.

It isn't that he doesn't trust Soonyoung; he's just been the victim of enough pranks over the years.

Soonyoung meets him at the door with a vibrant smile on his face, his hair neatly gelled into place and a properly tied tie around his neck, proving that if nothing else he can still clean up nicer than anyone else Mingyu knows.

"Mingyu-ya!" Soonyoung says, his voice a little loud for standing outside an art gallery, bouncing on the toes of his expensive shoes. "Did you get taller?"

He's taken to asking this question every time he sees Mingyu.

"I don't think so, hyung," Mingyu answers, fighting down a smile. Soonyoung's attitude is infectious, it always has been. He makes everything around him brighter.

"Seokmin-ah said he would come too," Soonyoung says, his eyes curving when he smiles. "Wanna go inside?"

Mingyu hums, wondering if they should wait outside for Seokmin as well. But before he can suggest it, Soonyoung grabs his elbow and escorts him inside, just on this side of gentle, his fingers tight around Mingyu's arm like he's scared Mingyu is going to try and run away.

"This isn't another prank, is it?" Mingyu asks when they pass through the glass doors, looking down at Soonyoung with a frown. He can't even begin to imagine what it could be. Soonyoung laughs, letting go of his arm and shaking his head.

"What kind of prank would this be?" Soonyoung says, looking around the room with a grin. He's got Mingyu there, at least. If this is some kind of prank Soonyoung put together, it's an incredibly elaborate one, complete with waiters walking around with flutes of champagne and enormous photography prints hanging up on the walls, a formally dressed crowd milling around the brightly lit room.

Soonyoung grabs two glasses of champagne from the next waiter that passes by him, handing one to Mingyu with a roll of his eyes. "I'm hurt! Can't I just spend time with my favorite dongsaeng?"

"Seokmin-ah isn't here yet," Mingyu replies, hiding his smile behind the rim of the glass. Soonyoung blinks twice then laughs, shaking his head.

"You're all my favorites," he says, looking up at Mingyu with mischief plain in his eyes.

"It makes me nervous when you say things like that," Mingyu says, but he's smiling all the same. Soonyoung giggles, following Mingyu around when he wanders slowly between the pictures, stopping to take each one in for as long as he can.

It isn't very long before Seokmin shows up, in a fancy suit that's tailored maybe just a shade too tight around his legs and Xu Minghao one step behind him.

For it being the first time that Mingyu has seen Minghao since he quietly relocated back to Seoul, the moment is surprisingly anti-climactic. The world doesn't shatter apart, and time doesn't stop. Minghao just gives the two of them a polite smile while Seokmin bounds over to Soonyoung like an overexcited puppy.

"Hyung!" He says, his voice definitely too loud for the gallery. "You're still here?"

"Of course," Soonyoung says, throwing his arm over Seokmin's broad shoulders. "I told you I'd meet up with you here!"

"Didn't you have to go help that rookie group with their concert practice?" Seokmin says, pressing a hand to his mouth like he's stunned by Soonyoung's forgetfulness. Soonyoung gasps and Mingyu can't help but feel like he's definitely been had.

"You're right!" He says, whipping his head around like he's having trouble finding Mingyu, standing two feet away from him. "Ah, I'm not sure where Mingyu-ya went and I took a cab here!"

"I can drive you," Seokmin says, tucking his arm around Soonyoung's waist. "We have to hurry so you aren't late!"

There's a flat expression on Minghao's face like he's just realized he's been tricked as well.

"You're really leaving?" He asks when Seokmin brushes by him, heaving out a sigh. Seokmin shoots him a blinding smile.

"Sorry, Minghao-ya," he says, still holding onto Soonyoung. "It's an emergency."

Mingyu doesn't bother to argue with the two of them. It's obvious they cooked this up in advance and no matter what he says, they'll find a way to slip out before long.

That leaves him and Minghao standing in the gallery, alone but together, with few polite options for getting out of it.

"Ya," Minghao says, stepping closer and shaking his head, brushing his bangs away from his eyes when they tumble forward. "Those two."

"Same as always," Mingyu says, doing his best to smile.

There's a nugget of genius to their stupid plan, as always. Mingyu and Minghao have always shared a love of photography and it's obvious that Minghao doesn't want to leave without at least having taken a look around. Mingyu clears his throat, adjusting the tie that suddenly feels too tight around his neck.

"There's, um, some nice landscapes over here," Mingyu says, tilting his head to the side. Minghao looks at him, blinking like he's seeing Mingyu in front of him properly for the first time before nodding his head slightly.

Mingyu can't shake the feeling that Minghao is being wary around him. All their conversation is polite and strained, always about whatever photograph is directly in front of them. Still, it's almost on its way to being enjoyable when Mingyu's phone buzzes in his pocket.

He waits until Minghao has drifted to the next picture to pull it out.

**(seokgu):** _talk to him!!!_

Mingyu's stomach twists and he stuffs his phone quickly back in his pocket, reaching out and grasping Minghao gently by the elbow. Minghao jolts a little at the contact and Mingyu realizes it's the first time they've touched all night.

"Do you, um, want some food?" Mingyu asks, dropping his hand quickly.

"Min-ah drove me here," Minghao says, though it's not really an answer to Mingyu's question. "He said we could go eat after."

"I have my car," Mingyu says, more softly this time.

Minghao pauses, his tongue tracing over his lower lip quickly before nodding. "Yeah. That sounds good."

 

They're both dressed up so once they're back in Mingyu's car he passes by the more relaxed bars and chicken places and opts for a fancy restaurant instead, crossing his fingers that name alone is enough to get them a table.

It's probably a mix of luck, recognition, and the charming smile that Mingyu gives every waiter that passes that they finally get a seat, ten minutes after they show up. The atmosphere is stuffy and even though Mingyu has been to plenty of nice restaurants in the past, he still feels out of place.

Minghao looks much more comfortable, looking over the list of wines with his lips drawn into a straight line. His shoulders are loose and relaxed, the dark jacket of his suit draped over the back of his chair and the top button of his shirt open. He's not wearing a tie and that means Mingyu doesn't have anything to keep him from catching a peek of the arch of Minghao's collarbones.

It's been a long time since he's seen Minghao so dressed up, and it's embarrassingly distracting. He's _supposed_ to be mad at Minghao, but that's hard to remember when he's busy being attracted to him instead.

That's been the pace of things for the last two years, though. Even if Mingyu wishes it otherwise, he and Minghao seem drawn together in a way that neither of them can do much to prevent.

"The Bordeaux sounds good," Minghao says when the silence draws out far too long, setting the list down. Mingyu nods, humming an agreement from the back of his throat without taking the time to look.

"Have you been here before?" He asks, realizing only after the question is out of his mouth how silly it sounds. Minghao smiles, a little more naturally, shaking his head.

"I haven't gone to check out any fine dining yet," he says, a little giggle in his voice. It should make Mingyu laugh along with him but it reminds him instead that Minghao has been here for three weeks at least and hasn't bothered to even contact him once.

The hurt he feels at that makes Mingyu feel stupid.

They stay awkward for the whole meal, or at least until they get to the bottom of the bottle of wine that Minghao orders. By the time Mingyu finishes his steak he's leaning forward against the table, one ankle hooked around Minghao's, soaking up the growing heat of his gaze.

Somehow, this is always where they end up.

"You probably shouldn't be driving," Minghao says, his fingers ghosting over the back of Mingyu's hand where it's resting on the table. "We can take a cab back to my apartment, it's not far."

Mingyu could very well call a cab for himself and go home alone. That's what he _should_ do.

"Yeah," he says, the word coming out on a heavy breath. "That's a good idea."

Minghao smiles at him, his head slightly ducked, a flush on his face from the alcohol and Mingyu feels a lurching in his stomach that has nothing to do with the wine at all. He remembers all the times Jihoon has berated him for being pathetic and lovesick and wipes them out of his mind in the same instant.

 

The apartment Minghao is living in turns out to actually be not far away, in an unfamiliar building. Mingyu spends the whole cab ride with Minghao's palm in his lap, facing upward, pushing the black cuff of his sleeve upward to trace the delicate bones of his wrist, feeling the goosebumps that rise up on his skin. Minghao is staring determinedly out the window the whole time, but Mingyu can see the way his fingers twitch and curl inward, fighting the urge to catch Mingyu's hand in his own.

He pays the fare for the cab before Minghao pulls him out onto the sidewalk by the hand, jacket tossed over his shoulder, fingers gripping tight around Mingyu's.

They've both had plenty of time to think better of this, and for a moment, while they're waiting for the elevator to meet them in the lobby, Mingyu wonders if Minghao is going to call it all off and tell him that he should just go home.

He doesn't-- he pulls Mingyu in the elevator behind him, and once he's sure that no one else is going to get in after them, twists Mingyu's tie around his fist to reel him in for an aggressive kiss. Mingyu goes along with it, his hands coming to rest on the wall at Minghao’s sides, pressing him back against it. 

Minghao's mouth is hungry against his, gripping tighter on the tie to pull Mingyu close and keep him from getting away. The knot is cinched tight at the base of Mingyu's throat, the weight of it heavy on every breath he takes.

By the time the doors open with a polite bell, Mingyu is a little lightheaded. Minghao's lips lift into a grin against his, releasing Mingyu's tie and shoving him out into the hall first, following behind before the doors shut. He pulls Mingyu down the hall alongside him, stopping in front of one of the dark wooden doors to punch a code into the pad. 

Mingyu follows him in and tries to look like he's not examining the dark interior of Minghao's apartment. He doesn't know what to expect from it, but one of the walls supports a painting almost as tall as he is and there are other pieces of art scattered along the walls. 

On the low table in the middle of his living room, there's a picture sitting in a frame but Minghao hauls him off in the direction of the bedroom before he gets the chance to really look at it. 

Minghao's room is more minimalist, with soft light bleeding in from the city outside and dark, crisp sheets that look like they’ve hardly been slept in at all. Mingyu catches himself wondering if this is what Minghao’s place in Hong Kong looked like or if he decided to change things up when he moved.

It’s a far cry from the tiny room they used to share with its lined up wine bottles, lights twisted around them so they could sit and talk with more atmosphere. There was hardly space for two beds and more often than not they just used one, even if the mattresses were too narrow to comfortably fit the both of them.

Looking at Minghao’s new room, in his new apartment, Mingyu is surprised by the anger that wells up bright and hot from the pit of his stomach. It’s a reminder of all the wrong things— just how far Minghao has gone without him; how easy it was for him to leave everything behind.

Mingyu’s jaw clenches up, grabbing one of Minghao’s hips and pulling them close together, pushing a bruising kiss against his mouth, holding on tighter to keep him from wiggling away. Minghao seems to have the opposite in mind, his hand forming a claw around Mingyu’s shoulder, a surprised sound slipping into the kiss. Mingyu backs the two of them up toward the bed, trying to avoid taking any more of Minghao’s room.

He gives Minghao an extra shove when the back of his legs hits the mattress and Minghao lands on it with a little laugh, a grin on his face. “You’re that eager?”

Mingyu doesn’t smile back, kneeling on the bed so he’s over Minghao’s lap, pushing him back by his shoulders. Minghao goes along without resisting, huffing a little sigh out when Mingyu’s mouth finds his neck, biting down on the smooth skin, just shy of leaving marks where they’re sure to be noticed. He wants to bite down even harder— to make sure Minghao has a reason to remember him this time.

There’s still too much clothing between them and Minghao’s hands slip under Mingyu’s jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. Mingyu wiggles it off his wrists, letting it crumple in an expensive pile on the floor. He pulls the next button of Minghao’s shirt open, following the exposed skin with his mouth until he reaches a spot on Minghao’s chest that’s likely to be covered up for the next few days. He grips Minghao’s hips before his teeth sink in, imprinting the ring of them in Minghao’s skin, guiding their hips together at the right angle.

Minghao groans, low and surprised, arching his body up against Mingyu’s. It’s a risky move to leave marks like this, even where he’s covered up, but Minghao doesn’t try to stop him and so Mingyu drags his lips a little lower and leaves another. He can feel the shiver that passes through Minghao’s body, one of his hands curling around the back of Mingyu’s neck. Minghao rocks his hips up, one of Mingyu’s thighs caught between his legs, grinding his cock against the firm muscle. Mingyu keeps pulling open the buttons of Minghao’s shirt, pushing the soft fabric away from his skin, leaving red bites on his ribs and the soft skin of his stomach as well. Minghao’s fingers get caught in his hair, clinging still when Mingyu finishes with his shirt and sits up to shove it off of his shoulders.

Something about his face is hard for Mingyu to look at— the way the light bleeding in from outside casts orange across his face, lighting up his wide, dark eyes. Minghao pushes up to kiss him again, still holding onto the back of Mingyu’s head. One of Mingyu’s fists squeezes tight around nothing, blood blooming under the skin of his ears and the back of his neck. He’s not sure if the flush is from the way Minghao is tugging his hair and rolling his hips against Mingyu’s thigh or from the anger he’s still having a hard time swallowing down to the pit of his stomach.

He reaches, grabbing hold of one of Minghao’s wrists and pulling it free, shoving his hand down against the bed and pinning it there. With the other arm, he leverages himself to sitting upright, caging Minghao underneath his much longer limbs. For a second, Minghao looks surprised before it blinks away into a grin. Mingyu can feel himself scowling but can’t stop it, working his head between Minghao’s legs to rub his palm over the hard line of Minghao’s cock, his strokes quick and rough.

Minghao’s back arches, his nails carving into the back of Mingyu’s neck, the other hand pushing up against Mingyu’s tight grip. Mingyu presses his weight down more, soaking up the small groans he gets out of Minghao. Mingyu manages to pull open the fastening of his pants after a moment of struggling, huffing out an annoyed sound when Minghao giggles.

He should know better than to get wrapped up in this again— Minghao’s move to Seoul isn’t a promise that things will change between the two of them. It only fuels how mad he is further, wrestling Minghao’s pants away from his legs, finally letting go of his wrist to make the task easier. Minghao sits up, kicking them off the rest of the way and tugging the buttons of Mingyu’s shirt open with nimble, sure fingers.

There’s still a composure to Minghao that Mingyu wishes he could break apart. He wants to make him desperate or to see him cry. He wants anything that makes it feel like he’s not just seeing what Minghao wants him to. The black tie is still hanging off his neck, the knot tugged loose and Minghao looks at it with a smile, catching it in his fingers and pulling it open further.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” Mingyu says, low and rough, without any preamble to it. The sound Minghao makes could be a groan or a laugh, pulling the tie from around Mingyu’s neck with a wide grin on his face.

“Yeah?” Minghao says, his voice challenging. He pushes his shoulders back, stretching across the bed languidly, his heel dragging up the back of Mingyu’s calf. Mingyu nods his head, his palm curling around Minghao’s cock again, feeling it through the silky fabric of his boxers.

“Show me, then,” Minghao says, twisting his body to the side to dig one hand into the nightstand drawer, pulling a bottle of lube out with a smirk and dropping it on the bed within Mingyu’s reach. The flush on Mingyu’s face flares brighter, aroused and frustrated all at once. He drags Minghao’s underwear below the flushed head of his cock, pausing to rub his thumb over where the slit is slick with precome. It makes Minghao squirm, sensitive and seeking more. Mingyu pulls his underwear down to his knees before shoving Minghao’s legs further apart, making enough space to kneel between them.

He grabs the bottle from the bed, flicking the cap open with one of his nails and spreads the cold liquid over his fingers, teasing them over Minghao’s rim and making him hiss a soft sound out between his teeth. In spite of his words, Mingyu presses one finger in slowly, swallowing a sound at the way Minghao’s hole squeezes hot and tight around the single digit.

Minghao tips his head back against the sheets, making the long line of his neck stand out and Mingyu gets distracted for a moment looking at the scattered bruises on his chest, wishing he could decorate Minghao’s throat the same way. However, for as tempting as it is, Mingyu bites down on the inside of his cheek instead and curls his finger slightly.

It doesn't take very long for Minghao to open up comfortably around one of Mingyu's fingers, pushing his hips down for more, his head still leaning back. His whole body is stretched out under Mingyu, heels digging into the mattress and shoulders pressed flat. He doesn't seem bothered by being so exposed, but Mingyu doesn't really expect anything else when it comes to Minghao. He slides a second finger in, stretching them carefully apart and listening to Minghao whine.

It's rare for Minghao to make so much noise in bed and Mingyu can't help but enjoy it. He presses his free hand down on Minghao's stomach gently, curling his fingers as he does, making sure to press the pads of them directly against his prostate. Minghao's body jerks, his feet sliding across the bed, looking for purchase and unable to find it. Mingyu pulls his fingers back again, feeling the shiver that rattles through Minghao's body.

He's already forgetting that he planned on being angry with Minghao; absorbed in his reactions, trying to draw even more of those little sounds out of his mouth. Minghao's lips are dark and swollen from all the aggressive kissing and the bruises Mingyu left are already standing out in stark reds and purples. If Mingyu had his own way, this is the kind of thing only he would be allowed to see.

Even though it isn't, he's still enjoying it more than he wanted to. He keeps thrusting his fingers into Minghao's hole, stretching him out further, taking his time with the task. Out of the two of them, Minghao has always been the more patient, so he doesn't beg or try to speed Mingyu along. He doesn't complain about taking whatever Mingyu gives him; it seems like he's enjoying it, even.

Minghao's arms reach up to tangle around Mingyu's neck again, pulling him in closer and nipping at the shell of Mingyu's ear with a sigh.

"Feels good," he says, his voice catching in a groan. "Just like that."

He's stretched around three of Mingyu's thick fingers, knees digging into Mingyu's thighs. His voice makes Mingyu's stomach twist in a way that's familiar but a little strange. It's been a long time since Minghao has talked to him during sex the way he used to. Mingyu is too aware of exactly how much he missed it, biting the inside of his lip and leaning his head closer to Minghao's mouth, doing his best not to whine out a request for more.

It doesn't matter— Minghao knows him.

"That's what you wanna hear, isn't it?" He says, his voice still low and rasping, vibrating Mingyu's ear. "That you're being so good for me?"

Just like that, all the control that Mingyu's anger afforded him slips away. He bites down on a whimper, pressing his face into the side of Minghao's neck and licking at the join of his shoulder and his neck, curling his fingers to rub Minghao's prostate again. Minghao groans, arching so they're pressed together in one long line. One of Minghao's hands slides from the back of his neck to grip his hair, making it impossible for Mingyu to move away even if he wanted to.

He nips at the side of Minghao's throat, enough to make him grit out another sound before sliding his fingers out, dragging his nails down Minghao's spread thighs and feeling his firm muscles tense. Reluctantly, Minghao detaches his arms and sits up, forcing Mingyu up onto his knees again. He pulls open the belt of Mingyu's pants with surprisingly nimble fingers, the leather hissing as it's jerked out of the loops holding it in place and the buckle hitting the floor with a loud clatter.

Minghao's mouth wanders over the lines of Mingyu's chest, pausing to tease one of Mingyu's nipples with his teeth, opening Mingyu's pants as well. Mingyu fights down a whine the best he can, strangling it in his throat when Minghao's long fingers wrap around his cock, stuffed between his slacks and his boxers, rubbing his palm against the slick spot where the fabric is stuck to his skin.

"You're so wet," Minghao says, a grin in the whisper of his voice. He's obviously ignoring the way his own cock left a wet spot on his stomach, ignored while Mingyu was concentrating on fingering him open. Still, his words make pink rise up in Mingyu's cheeks and he ducks his head in a wasted effort to cover for it. It makes Minghao giggle, dragging his fingers over Mingyu's cock in a gesture that can't be called anything but a caress.

"Ah, fuck," Mingyu says, his voice catching, pushing his hips forward toward Minghao's palm when his hand pulls away.

It's impossible for him to keep the upper hand and he's never been good at staying angry, to begin with.

Minghao kisses him, long and slow, hooking his fingers in the waist of Mingyu's pants and dragging them out of the way along with his boxers, stopping when they reach his knees to let Mingyu wiggle the rest of the way free. His hand digs around on the bed until it finds the discarded bottle, drizzling it over his palm and looking up at Mingyu with a grin, the light from outside pouring across his face.

"C'mon," he says, stroking the cool fluid over the length of Mingyu's cock in long, languid strokes, making Mingyu hiss. "You said you were gonna fuck me."

There's still a challenge in his voice; the kind that Mingyu can't resist rising to. He rolls his hips into Minghao's hand until it pulls away. His own fingers wrap tight around Minghao's thigh, using it to pull him across the bed, hitching the leg in his hand around his hips. Minghao falls back against the sheets, angling his other leg to the side so his thighs are spread side for Mingyu, his rim stretched and inviting.

Mingyu pushes in slowly, chin against his chest and his lower lip between his teeth. Even with all the preparation, Minghao is still so tight around the blunt head of his cock that it makes tears spring up in his eyes, biting down on his lip until his mouth tastes metallic, fighting the urge to shove himself inside the incredibly hot squeezing of Minghao's body.

In spite of his promises, he can't help but be tender in the way he handles Minghao. When he finally bottoms out, he holds himself in place, rubbing his palm up and down Minghao's thigh to try and soothe the tension he can feel in Minghao's muscles. Minghao leans his head back, chin pointing straight toward the ceiling, and it seems like his body is hardly touching the bed at all.

"Oh fuck," Minghao says, sounding like he's dragging his words out of the middle of his chest. Mingyu forces himself to stay as still as he can, worried even about breathing, not sure if he hurt Minghao somehow. But Minghao sighs, his eyes fluttering open, looking up at Mingyu with a little smile on his face.

"Feels good," he says, reaching out to grab hold of Mingyu's free hand, lacing their fingers together. He tightens his leg around Mingyu's hips, using it to pull him in just a little more, grunting when Mingyu's hips grind against his.

It's the signal Mingyu needs to finally move, clinging to Minghao's thigh and squeezing his hand when he draws his hips back slowly, swinging them forward with enough force to make their skin slap together. It takes him a few thrusts to pick up the right pace; fucking into Minghao in deep, harsh thrusts that make the bed under them shake.

"Yeah, perfect. Like that," Minghao says, his voice coming out in a slurred mumble. Mingyu isn't sure if Minghao is even aware of the words falling out of his mouth. He has the sheets above his head in an iron grip, eyes squeezed shut, bangs stuck to his forehead with a layer of sweat.

If he wasn't already a model, Mingyu would think that Minghao's looks are wasted by the rest of the world. As it is, he loses his sense of rhythm taking in the sight of him, thrusts going uneven when he gets caught up in staring at Minghao's face, the long stretch of his neck, the moles scattered across his chest.

Minghao whines, his eyes squinting open, squeezing his leg around Mingyu's waist. "Lemme ride you."

Mingyu is hardly in a position to argue with an offer like that. He pulls out with a reluctant whine, shivering at the way Minghao's body clenches around him like it wants to keep him there. Minghao heaves himself up with a groan, shoving Mingyu back to the mattress and climbing on top of him, his palms resting on Mingyu's shoulders to keep his balance.

He twists his torso, one hand wrapping around Mingyu's cock to guide it back into his hole, groaning the whole time Mingyu slides back inside him. His back arches, rolling his hips as soon as Mingyu is seated fully inside of him, his head tipping forward. Mingyu lets him find the rhythm he wants before thrusting his hips up to match it, both hands resting on the curve of Minghao's waist.

"So good," Minghao says, and this time Mingyu leans up on his elbows to hear him better. "Doing such a good job for me."

Mingyu groans, his arm wrapping around Minghao's back to pull them together, resting his forehead against the center of Minghao's chest. It used to be embarrassing— how easy it was for Minghao to turn his need for praise against him. But now it's been so long since Minghao stopped that even that much is enough to turn all of Mingyu's insides to goo.

One of Minghao's arms curls around his neck, fingers stroking through his hair, clipped sounds escaping his mouth every time the thick head of Mingyu's cock drags over his prostate. It's easier to push all the way inside of Minghao like this, groaning out long and low when he settles himself in Mingyu’s lap, grinding their hips together.

Minghao’s head comes to rest against the top of Mingyu’s, panting into his hair while he bounces his hips. “You’re still my good boy, aren’t you, Mingyu?”

Mingyu’s brain short circuits at that, leaving him no chance to actually think of an answer. He whines against Minghao’s chest instead, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing his hips up to meet Minghao’s. It makes Minghao groan, louder than before, his fingers tightening in Mingyu’s hair.

The grip of Minghao’s fingers sends sparks sizzling down Mingyu’s spine, and that’s the last straw it takes to tip Mingyu over the edge, gripping Minghao’s hips and grinding up against them, burying himself as deep as he can when he comes. Minghao hardly slows down— riding Mingyu through his orgasm, his thighs starting to shake on either side of Mingyu’s hips.

He uses his grip on Mingyu’s hair to pull his head back, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips, mouth open to pull in air in heavy pants. Mingyu kisses him back, pushing his tongue in the open space of Minghao’s mouth, shaking when Minghao keeps bouncing in his lap, pushing all his nerves to a painful, oversensitive edge.

Before he comes, Minghao pulls Mingyu as tight against him as he can. Mingyu’s cock is still trapped inside him, come starting to make a sticky mess of his thighs. Minghao rolls his hips two, three, four times, rubbing the head of Mingyu’s cock directly against his prostate until he comes, tipping his head back with a whine.

Mingyu is shaking when Minghao finally rolls off of him, too keyed up to make himself stop. He drops back against the bed, struggling to catch his breath, even the soft sheets feeling almost painful against his skin.

It takes him by surprise when Minghao’s arms wrap around him again, dragging him close and rubbing up and down his back in long, soothing strokes.

“You’re okay,” he says, mumbling against Mingyu’s temple, giving him something to cling on to. He keeps rubbing Mingyu’s back, even when the tremors wracking his limbs slow. “You’re alright, I’m right here.”

There’s a sharp, longing pull in the center of Mingyu’s chest and he has to push it away before he does something even more embarrassing like crying in Minghao’s bed.

He detaches himself, even though one of Minghao’s hands lingers on his side like he still needs the steady, reassuring touch. Mingyu knows he should shake it off but he can’t quite make himself, raking his fingers back through his hair and avoiding Minghao’s probing gaze.

“I should go home,” he says after a moment, the words sticking in his throat. “I have a shoot tomorrow.”

It’s a lie, but Mingyu isn’t sure his heart can handle falling asleep in the same bed alongside Minghao after that— waking up with their bodies tangled together.

“Sure,” Minghao says, his voice quiet. Mingyu pulls himself away, shrugging his wrinkled suit back on and trying to put it in some kind of order.

When he makes himself look at Minghao again, his face has gone impassive. Mingyu hesitates, tie in his hands, mouth open while he tries to think of the right thing to say.

He fails to come up with anything, so he just shuts his mouth and lets himself out, closing the door on Minghao’s unfamiliar apartment with his head hanging low between his shoulders.

**{∞}**

This time when Minghao decides he’s had enough of staring at the walls of their dorm, it’s the middle of the afternoon and most of the other members are already out enjoying the nice weather on one of their days off. Minghao had decided to stay behind originally because he couldn’t think of anything he really wanted to do, and it seems like it’s been awhile since he’s had time to just relax by himself.

But the quiet is already bearing down too heavy on him and so Minghao does what he always does when he needs to be rescued from the thoughts echoing around in his own head— he goes barging into Mingyu’s room. He lets the door bang against the wall, startling Wonwoo out of the book he’s reading and jolting Mingyu awake from his catnap.

Mingyu sits up, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on Wonwoo’s elbow, rubbing at his eyes with a groan. “Did something break?”

“No,” Minghao says, fighting a smile at the sleepy blinking of Mingyu’s eyes. “I wanna go out.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says, looking like he might just lay his head back on Wonwoo’s lap and return to napping. “Then go.”

“You’re coming with me,” Minghao says, rolling his eyes and grabbing Mingyu’s arm, pulling him up off the bed before he can form a proper complaint.

“Why do I have to come?” Mingyu whines, even though he follows along when Minghao tugs him out of the room. Behind them, Minghao can hear Wonwoo chuckling as they go.

“Because I’m gonna get a tattoo,” Minghao says, pausing at the door to step into his shoes. “And someone needs to go with me.”

“You are not,” Mingyu says, a little frown on his face. He stands still in the entryway, watching Minghao with his mouth slightly open.

“I am,” Minghao says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “I already made up my mind.”

Truth be told, he was planning on waiting until their contracts were settled to actually decide, but the urge to do it _now_ already has a hold on him and he can’t think of a good enough reason to put it off any longer.

He digs a mask out of the pocket of someone’s coat, not sure who it actually belongs to, looping it over his ears and covering the grin on his face.

Mingyu shuts his mouth, a little scowl on his face before he bends over to pull his shoes on as well, digging around in his own pocket for the mask he must have worn earlier when he went out with Hansol to get snacks.

Behind the dark fabric, Minghao is still smiling, looping his arm through Mingyu’s and pulling him outside, chuckling when Mingyu rakes a hand through his sleep-mussed hair in an effort to fix this.

“Are you really getting a tattoo?” Mingyu asks when they’re away from the dorm and Minghao is leaning against a wall, searching on his phone for any tattoo parlors that might have time for him today.

“Yeah,” Minghao says, glancing up from the screen.

“Did you ask the managers?” Mingyu asks, though from the weary tone of his voice it seems like he knows the answer already. Minghao shakes his head, huffing out a little laugh.

“It’s not like it’ll be on my face,” Minghao says, turning his attention back to his phone. “I’m gonna get it on my back so it’ll be easy to hide.”

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” Mingyu says, shaking his head. “Did you at least tell Seungcheol-hyung?”

“We’ll send him a picture when it’s finished,” Minghao says, tugging the mask down to his chin. “Now be quiet, I gotta call places.”

Mingyu groans, tossing his hands up in surrender and leaning against the bricks at Minghao’s side, leaning his head in close to listen in on the conversation.

 

Minghao has to call three different places before he finds one that has the time for an appointment, and it only takes a little bit of badgering to get Mingyu to drive him there. He spends the whole ride, though it isn’t very long, vibrating with a mix of anxiety and excitement, changing the radio station and rolling the window up and down.

“I should stop letting you talk me into this stuff,” Mingyu says, but there’s no real conviction to it. “We’re both gonna get yelled at.”

Minghao could point out that in a few weeks, it’s unlikely to matter to anyone that he has a tattoo but he bites the inside of his cheek and keeps it to himself.

He’s not supposed to know that Chan agreed to a solo contract or that Jun is planning on going back to acting in China. Seungcheol asked them both to keep it secret until the company had decided what to do following their departures, but performance unit have never been the best with secrets. But even more than that, he’s reluctant to spoil whatever time he might have left with the group, or even just with Mingyu.

It’s possible, likely even, that this will be the last impulsive trip he gets to drag Mingyu along for. He wants to enjoy it, not spend more of his time worrying about the future than he has already.

It’s out of their hands already, anyway. The only thing Minghao has any real chance of controlling is his own future.

Mingyu glances around nervously when they get to the tattoo shop, parking in the tiny lot behind it. He looks like he’s expecting a fansite or a dispatch photographer to pop out from around every corner and catch them.

“C’mon,” Minghao says, rolling his eyes and grabbing hold of Mingyu’s hand, dragging him toward the building. “You worry too much.”

“I have to do it for both of us,” Mingyu shoots back, but he squeezes Minghao’s hand in his anyway.

It takes a little while for Minghao to work out what he wants with the artist— the same rough design he's had applied as a temporary tattoo in the past, a dragon wrapped around itself in a figure 8. Mingyu hovers at the side, eyebrows close together, looking at the various designs hanging up on the wall and chewing nervously on his lip.

"Do you wanna get one too?" Minghao asks, lifting his eyebrows and smiling, pulling the mask away from his face. Mingyu jolts, shaking his head quickly before doing the same.

"I didn't even like getting my ears pierced," Mingyu says, whining a little. "This is even worse."

Minghao laughs, watching the artist wipe the cushy black table down, pulling his shirt up over his head and handing it over to Mingyu.

"That means you won't stay with me?" He asks, lifting one of his eyebrows. He means to sound like he's not particularly bothered either way, but there's a reason he asked Mingyu to come here with him and it seems like getting this tattoo wouldn't be quite the same if he left. The nerves must creep into his voice because Mingyu's smile softens.

"I'll hold your hand if you want," Mingyu says, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiles. Minghao snorts but doesn't turn down the offer.

It helps a little that the tattoo is on his back, which means he can't even see the needle the woman is holding in her hand after applying the stencil to his skin and having him lay down on his stomach, one arm under his head to hold it at a more comfortable angle.

"Don't forget to breathe," she says before she touches the loudly vibrating tattoo gun to his skin for the first time. It hurts, but not nearly as badly as Minghao was expecting; more of a strange burning sensation than anything else. Mingyu has their fingers laced together, sitting on a stool next to Minghao's head. He has a much better view and he cringes a little, squeezing Minghao's hand.

"Is it bad?" He asks, biting his lip, watching the woman wipe ink away from Minghao's back after the first few strokes with increasing concern on his face.

"Nah," Minghao says, squeezing Mingyu's hand in return. The pain is gone as soon as the tattoo gun is pulled away from his skin and for all the stories Minghao has heard from friends about how bad tattoos hurt, he probably could've made it through without Mingyu's support.

Not that he really wants to tell Mingyu that.

The tattoo is solid black, meaning it takes quite awhile and even though it wasn't very bad in the beginning, as time goes on it becomes harder and harder for Minghao to sit properly still. He has his teeth set together, breathing in and out as slow as he can, crushing Mingyu's hand in his grip.

Mingyu still looks nervous, so Minghao does his best not to make it obvious how uncomfortable he is. It must show anyway, because Mingyu runs his fingers through Minghao's loose hair, petting it away from his face and smiling.

"You're almost done," he says, rubbing Minghao's fingers with his thumb. "It looks really good."

Minghao smiles as much as he's able, tilting his head toward Mingyu's fingers.

"Thanks for coming with me," Minghao says, his voice quiet. "Even if we get in trouble."

"I don't mind," Mingyu says, the smile on his face getting a little wider.

For as far back as Minghao can remember, they've always gone on these kinds of small adventures together. In part due to their naturally aligned interests in art and fashion, but there's also a special sense of companionship that binds them together.

 

When it's finished, Mingyu takes a few quick pictures before the tattoo artist tapes a soft paper towel over the tattoo, handing him specific instructions on how he's supposed to take care of it.

"How do you feel?" Mingyu asks, glancing over when they get back in the car. Minghao hums, looking down at the aftercare instructions before laughing.

"Hungry."

Mingyu laughs as well, one of his hands drifting over the center console to slide along Minghao's leg.

"I guess we'll have to go get something to eat before we go back."

**{∞}**

"Ah, hyung, are you finishing this?" Seungkwan asks, his chopsticks already hovering over Minghao's plate. Minghao thinks it over for a second; whether he should glare and Seungkwan and tell him to back off or share his food like a good hyung.

He decides on the latter, nudging the plate forward with his arm and smiling just a little when Seungkwan snatches up one of his sushi rolls, popping it in his mouth with his eyes curved up in delight. He's less defensive about food than some of the other boys; Jihoon is currently hunched over his plate and if Seungkwan tried to take anything from him he'd probably get growled at.

"Ah, this is nice," Seungkwan says, leaning back in his seat and swirling the shot glass in front of him around with one finger, tipping it on its edge. The glass rolls around on the table, almost escaping Seungkwan's finger before he catches it, keeping it from falling off the table and shattering. "Everyone's been so tense lately."

Minghao nods, leaning back in his seat and wrinkling his nose at the stinging of his still fresh tattoo.

For all of them, it seems, thing aren't getting any less fraught in the near future.

"It seems like everyone wants to do their own thing," Seungkwan continues, setting the shot glass down and pushing his lower lip out in a sulk. "The company even asked Seokminnie-hyung about putting out a solo."

"Better than him getting picked off by another company too," Minghao grumbles, a little more bitterly than he means to. They still aren't supposed to be talking about this, under orders from the managers and lawyers, delivered by Seungcheol. But no one knows more gossip than Boo Seungkwan, and he's always eager to share it.

Besides, Seungcheol isn't with them and Jihoon and Wonwoo are too absorbed in eating still to scold them for having a conversation they aren't supposed to be having.

There's no real point to all this secrecy, to begin with; it's just made them all wary and nervous around each other in a way that's unfamiliar. Rather than facing this as a team they're all trying to fend for themselves. It makes Minghao nervous to watch.

"You mean Mingyu-hyung?" Seungkwan asks, leaning his head to the side, another sushi roll tucked into one of his round cheeks, chewing and talking at the same time.

Minghao's stomach sinks straight to the floor.

"Mingyu?" He repeats, his eyebrows crawling up to his hairline. "What about him?"

"He got a couple of offers," Seungkwan says, waving his chopsticks in front of him as he talks. "Acting, I think. Though the guy he's friends with in VIXX wants him to do a feature or something too, I think."

"Wonshik-sunbae," Minghao says automatically. He knew about that; Mingyu had been so excited after getting a call from him that he'd nearly knocked over the tidy display of empty wine bottles that sits on Minghao's nightstand in lieu of a night light. "But what about the acting thing?"

That's something Mingyu hasn't mentioned to him at all. It hurts to think about Mingyu leaving, but it hurts, even more, to think that Mingyu wouldn't tell him about it. At least Jun didn't try to keep his intentions a secret, and Chan was so conflicted over his own solo offer that he probably talked to every single one of them about it at one point or another.

Mingyu's never been one to keep secrets, especially from Minghao.

"Apparently someone finally realized he has the face of a leading man," Seungkwan says, rolling his eyes a little. “He didn’t tell you?”

Over the years, Mingyu has swung a few smaller roles in dramas and web drama— usually silly things that take advantage of his bright personality. But as a team, they've always been so busy that it's hard to pursue much in the way of a secondary career.

"So he's going too?" Minghao asks, the tips of his fingers strangely numb.

"Yeah," Seungkwan says, tapping his chopsticks against his cheek. "Hansollie said it was a really good offer."

Minghao nods, sinking down in his seat. If they weren't out in public, he would probably put his head down on the table and try to hide from the curious look that Seungkwan is giving him. It's not like he usually has to pump anyone else for information about Mingyu; usually, it's the opposite. All he can think about is how he woke up this morning in Mingyu's narrow bed, tucked against his bare chest, listening to his breathing go from the deep rhythm of sleep to soft chuckles while he was playing with Minghao's bedhead.

He clears his throat, trying to banish the thought from his head. It doesn't work. He's stuck wondering how long ago Mingyu started getting offers, why he decided to tell Hansol and not Minghao.

"Jihoon-hyung," Minghao says, interrupting his decimation of an entire school of tuna. "Are you getting the bill? I need to go."

"Ya, you brats always want me to pay," Jihoon says, waving his hand at Minghao. There's a touch of a smile on his face though and Minghao does his best to return it. He waves weakly at all of them, bolting out of the restaurant at the safest possible speed. Behind him, he can hear Wonwoo asking Seungkwan what's wrong but he doesn't stop to hear the answer Seungkwan lands on.

 

Minghao picks a random direction to go in, pulling the hood of his jacket up and cinching it tight around his face in an effort to hide. He's not very conspicuous on his own, hands tucked in his pockets and shoulders up around his ears. And he's not really planning on _doing_ anything other than walking around a little to try and clear his head.

The family that he's spent the last seven years of his life with is slowly crumbling around him and Minghao isn't having an easy time accepting that. No matter how much wandering he does down various Seoul avenues, it refuses to click into place in his mind that Mingyu was— is— planning on leaving him behind for bigger and better things without even saying a word. There's a bitter taste stuck in Minghao's mouth and when he does finally make his way back home he avoids Mingyu's room to burst into Jun's instead, throwing himself on the bed and upsetting the older boy in the middle of scrolling through something on his phone.

"Hello to you too," Jun says, patting Minghao's shoulder lightly, looking down at him. Minghao is laying face down, pulling one of Jun's fluffy pillows against his face to hide in it. "I thought you were out."

"I came back," Minghao says, his voice muffled.

"I see that," Jun says, giggling. His fingers find their way to stroking through Minghao's hair, and old habit for calming him down when he's upset. Jun hasn't done it in awhile and Minghao instinctively rolls his head toward the light touch of Jun's fingers. "What's on your mind?"

"Mingyu-ya is leaving," Minghao says, squeezing his eyes shut tight when he says it. "He didn't tell me about it."

For a long time, Jun is quiet. Minghao eventually finds the courage to pick his head up out of the pillow and look up at him, scowling.

"Did you know about it?" He asks, narrowing his eyes.

"No," Jun says, shaking his head, still petting Minghao's hair. "But you knew this was a possibility."

Minghao wants to argue with that, but it's his own fault for not taking the time to guard his heart. Jun is right; Mingyu is just as likely as anyone else to get a better offer or to decide he wants to go a different direction with his life. The fact is Minghao hasn't prepared himself for it because he simply didn't want to think about it at all. Some part of him expected that Mingyu would want the same things he did… for all of them to stay together.

For the two of them to stay together, at the very least.

He thinks about the fact that he heard Seungcheol telling a manager that at least three people were making other plans. He wonders if one of them is Mingyu and he decided not to tell Minghao about it at all.

"Do you think," he starts, pausing in the middle to clear his throat. "Do you think this is gonna be it?"

Xu Minghao doesn't cry often. Not for sad movies, or long calls from his mother, or hard frustrating days that stick in his mind into the late hours of the night. He's always tried to keep his tears between him and his pillow. But when Jun's face goes soft and reflective, Minghao can feel the lump building in the back of his throat.

"I don't know," Jun says, his hand pausing at the back of Minghao's head. “It’s hard to tell what people are thinking.”

Minghao hums a little, the sound catching miserably in his throat.

“I should call Sicheng-ah,” Minghao says after a moment, plucking at the loose strands of his bangs with a frown. “Tell him if his company is still looking for people I’ll look at an offer.”

“He asked you about that already, didn’t he?” Jun says. He’s trying his best to sound casual but Minghao can hear the surprise that bubbles up in his voice.

“Yeah. I turned him down,” Minghao says, resting his chin on his arm with a sigh. “But that’s when it was up to me.”

Jun nods his head, shimmying down on the bed so he’s lying stretched out next to Minghao, leaning so Minghao can see the video pulled up on his phone of tigers swimming around in a clear blue lake.

“Watch this,” he says, a wobbly smile on his face. Minghao nods, rolling on his side and leaning his head against Jun’s chest.

For the moment, at least, he can put off confronting the future just a little bit longer.

**{*}**

Mingyu's life would be easier if he was better at saying _no_ to people. As it is, he still gets talked into buying food for Seungkwan and Chan any time that he sees them, he still has dinner with his parents whenever they ask him over

When Seungcheol calls him late one evening to talk about his plans for Seventeen's tenth anniversary, part of Mingyu wishes he could just make up an excuse not to be there. But Seungcheol is a step ahead of him anyway, so he hardly gets the chance.

"I already asked your managers about your schedule," he says, a little smugness to his tone. "You don't have anything that night or the day after."

"Ah, are you sure, hyung?" Mingyu asks, tapping his fingers on his thigh. He knows Seungcheol is right about that but he's struggling to come up with another excuse to use in its place.

"Yes, I am sure," Seungcheol says, huffing just a little. "Are you trying to avoid seeing us, Mingyu-ya?"

"No," Mingyu says, but he cringes a little when it comes out of his mouth. Lying to Seungcheol isn't something he ever got very good at and it feels even worse than trying to lie to his parents does. "I just thought that week was pretty busy."

For a moment, Seungcheol is quiet, listening to someone talking in the background. Mingyu thinks he can hear Jeonghan's voice but he isn't sure until the phone rattles and he hears Seungcheol grumbling defensively followed by a yelp.

"Mingyu-ya," Jeonghan says, apparently having succeeded in wrestling the phone out of Seungcheol's grasp. "Are you saying you won't come?"

"That's not what I said," Mingyu says, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Leave it to his two oldest hyungs to gang up on all of them to make sure no one skips.

"That's good because we're trying to make sure the plan is all set," Jeonghan says, sweet and venomous at the same time. "And if you don't come it'll throw everything off."

"I wanted to spend the weekend with my girlfriend," Mingyu says because it's the only thing that comes to mind. Jeonghan, true to form, laughs.

"You don't have one of those," he says and Mingyu can hear Seungcheol giggling in the background as well. "Do you have anything else you wanna try?"

Mingyu pauses for a moment, thinking.

"No," he says, finally, because he knows Jeonghan won't let him beg off anyway. "Do I really have to stay in a hotel, though? I have my own place."

"Yes you do," Jeonghan says, sighing like he's suddenly very tired. "Not everyone lives so close, Mingyu-ya."

"I know," Mingyu says, grumbling, feeling like a scolded child.

"Besides we gave you and Minghao the room together," Jeonghan says, the sweet tone of his voice not fading.

This is exactly what Mingyu was scared of. He's had plenty of his friends trying to meddle in his relationship with Minghao already. He doesn't need any more not-so-gentle prodding to fix things or makeup or undo whatever it is the rest of them think is wrong.

He hasn't had a conversation with Minghao since Seokmin and Soonyoung tricked them into going to the gallery opening and Mingyu stormed out of his apartment in the middle of the night. It's almost the same as it was when Minghao was living in Hong Kong, only without the excuse of distance everyone seems to be expecting the two of them to change their approach.

"Why do we have to stay together?" Mingyu says, whining. He's too old for it, but something about talking to Jeonghan always brings out the most childish side in him.

"Seungkwannie said that's what you two do already," Jeonghan says, giggling as he relays the most recent gossip. "I didn't wanna separate our happy couple."

"Minghao and I aren't a couple," Mingyu says, feeling heat flood his cheeks.

"Well then you have two weeks to figure it out," Jeonghan says. "Do you have any more complaining you wanna do or is that all?"

"You're a bully," Mingyu grumbles and he can hear Seungcheol laugh, even when Jeonghan doesn't.

"I'll see you soon then, Mingyu-ya," Jeonghan says, hardly sounding bothered by the dig. Mingyu grumbles and agreement and hangs up the phone, leaning back on his couch with a groan.

It isn't a surprise that the other members are back to meddling in his relationship with Minghao, but it is annoying. Regardless of how he feels toward Minghao, he's not sure if their relationship can truly be put back together.

A week ago, laying in Minghao's bed, he was on the edge of telling Minghao he still loved him. Now they're going to be stuck sharing a room once again, after a night of alcohol and nostalgia and Mingyu will have to remind himself all over again why that's a bad idea.

Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them and turning the television on, determined to think about anything else, at least for the moment.

**{∞}**

When it comes to their final days as a group, Minghao has a hard time not stewing in his own personal regrets. There's nothing for any of them to do about it; in the end, they decide as a team not to renew their contracts rather than carry on with so many members going in separate directions.

It wouldn't be Seventeen without all of them.

So, rather than hide from the rest of the group and let his own misery overwhelm him, Minghao glues himself to Seokmin's side, laying on his messy bed with one of Seokmin's stuffed animals squeezed against his chest.

"I don't think it'll be that bad," Seokmin says, even though his eyes are still puffy from the last time he broke out crying. It's been happening in fits and starts; he'll think of something they won't get to do together, or see a comment from a fan on his Instagram and lose it all over again.

Minghao doesn't mind being the comforting one for once, even though he's not very good at it. It gives him something to do that isn't watch Jun pack up his clothes or listen to Seungkwan dramatically complain about Hansol going to study in America to anyone who will listen for more than 10 seconds.

They have a few days before they're supposed to leave the dorms; the company didn't want to renew the lease to give them more time together, even though Seungcheol asked. 

In the end, Seokmin and Seungcheol are the only two staying with Pledis after getting promising solo offers. Minghao is going to spend a few weeks with his family before moving into the apartment the modeling agency is setting up for him in Hong Kong.

Mingyu is staying in Seoul to join a different company as an actor.

They haven't talked about it; Minghao only knows that much because he pressed Hansol into telling him. In the last few days, since they ultimately made the decision not to carry on, it's suddenly felt like he's forgotten how to carry a conversation with Mingyu.

When they first started dating or seeing each other, or whatever it is they've been doing, Jeonghan had quietly given Minghao a warning about how if it ended badly, it could be trouble for everyone. He didn't want them blowing up and hurting their entire dynamic as a group. But it seems like Jeonghan's worries were misplaced; he and Mingyu are destined to go out with a fizzle, not with a bang.

"Minghao-ya," Seokmin says, tapping on the top of his head. "Did you hear me?"

"No," Minghao says, sitting up and rubbing his palm against his forehead. "Sorry."

"I asked what you're planning on doing now," Seokmin says, a kind smile still on his face. "You haven't said anything about it."

"Sicheng-ah helped me get a spot with the agency he models for," Minghao says, stretching his legs out across the bed and frowning down at his knees. "I'm moving to Hong Kong."

"Oh," Seokmin says like all the air has been punched out of his lungs. He's probably going to start crying again and Minghao hates being the cause of it. "That sounds... fun."

"I guess," Minghao says, trying to sound like he really means it. He would rather stay in Korea; he's only been home sporadically over the last few years and every time it's just served as a reminder of how little attachment he has to Anshan or China anymore. The better part of his adult life has been spent in Korea, and his friends-- the family he found for himself-- is there too.

Or at least, it was. Now he's suddenly on his own again. They all are.

"I know Junnie-hyung is going back," Seokmin says, interrupting himself with a telltale sniffle. "But I thought you were staying, maybe."

"I wish I was," Minghao says, picking his head up and looking up at Seokmin, smiling weakly at the sight of him blinking back tears. He holds an arm out, letting Seokmin collapse into him for a hug.

"Sorry," Seokmin says, his voice thick and wet, face hidden against Minghao's shoulder. "I hate goodbyes."

"I know," Minghao says, patting awkwardly at Seokmin's back. He's never been good at consoling people but he holds onto Seokmin tightly anyway. "Sorry, I'm making it harder."

Seokmin shakes his head but doesn't answer. It takes a minute before he pulls himself up, wiping tears away from his eyes and plastering a watery smile on his face again.

"We're all gonna do great things," he says, and at least he sounds like he _does_ believe it. "And we'll still be a family."

"Yeah," Minghao says, his shoulders slouching inward. "Of course."

"What about you and Mingyu-ya?" Seokmin says, his eyes going wide and round like coins. "You're gonna be so far away now."

Minghao doesn't know exactly how to answer that. In his mind there's only been one course of action since it was decided they weren't all staying together: he'd split up from Mingyu the way he would from the rest of them.

But it seems cruel to tell Seokmin that. Seokmin who once cheerfully, drunkenly, declared that what Mingyu and Minghao had was _true love_. Minghao remembers the belly flops his stomach did, the way Mingyu had ducked his head, his cheeks going a shy, bright pink. Minghao never admitted, to Mingyu or Seokmin or anyone else, that he was hoping Seokmin was right about that.

"I don't know," he says. It's the most honest he can make himself be. "I guess we'll find out."

Seokmin's smile wavers but doesn't falter, nodding his head and tossing his arms around Minghao's shoulders for another tight hug. Minghao huffs out a surprised breath but hugs him in return, rubbing the small of Seokmin's back.

**{*}**

As is to be expected, Seungcheol and Jeonghan went all out putting together the celebration of the team's anniversary. Even Hansol begged off his classes to show up, still blinking and jet-lagged but bright and smiling as always. In fact, the only person unable to make it is Soonyoung, who couldn't get out of a schedule for a new dance program.

The party is lacking in the energy he usually brings but it gives Mingyu an extra excuse in his mission to avoid being caught alone with Minghao; he's spent most of the night with Seokmin trying to pick his spirits up. It's a little bit of wasted effort-- knowing Seokmin he was always going to get emotional, but without Soonyoung around, even just for the night, it compounds the sense of loss that they're all feeling.

Seokmin has his forehead pressed against the stiff cotton of Mingyu's shirt, nuzzling his shoulder and mumbling something that Mingyu doesn't quite catch. He still has an empty bottle of beer clutched in his hand and Mingyu has been waiting for the last five minutes for the right chance to take it gently away from him.

"I miss Soonie-hyung," Seokmin says, for what must be the tenth time.

"I know," Mingyu says, one hand curled around the back of Seokmin's neck, rubbing the shaved hairs at his nape, keeping his voice low and soothing. "You'll see him in a few days."

Seokmin shakes his head, almost tipping himself to the side before Mingyu catches his arm to hold him upright. "No. I miss everybody."

"The rest of us are here," Mingyu says, still cooing, though he's pretty sure he understands what Seokmin means.

For all the fun they've had, the easy chemistry that falls back into place, it's hard to forget that it's fleeting and tomorrow they all have to go back to their now separate lives. Mingyu leans his head to the side, laying his cheek against the top of Seokmin's head, his arm wrapping around Seokmin's back to both hold him in place and make certain he doesn't fall.

"It shouldn't be like this," Seokmin says, his words a little slurred. He sniffles and Mingyu doesn't have to check to know that he's crying. It's not the first time all night, though he managed to hold his tears back longer than Seungkwan did. Mingyu fights down a little smile, rubbing slow circles into Seokmin's back.

"I know," Mingyu says again, more heart in it this time. "But we're all still a family."

Seokmin nods his head, a miserable little sob escaping his mouth.

It's started to get late, and several people have already gone up to the hotel rooms that Jeonghan and Seungcheol booked for them to sleep. Mingyu carefully pulls the bottle away from Seokmin, setting it aside so it doesn't fall to the ground and shatter. He shifts his grasp on Seokmin's back, holding him still, lifting his head to look around the room.

Seungkwan and Hansol are still standing in one of the corners, heads bent close together while they talk. They've been attached all night, laughing the whole time even when it looks like Hansol is getting just a little delirious from the lack of sleep. Mingyu is loathe to interrupt them, even if he's not sure he can get Seokmin up to bed safely by himself.

He's not too hard to shuffle around, but Seokmin can be a bit of a wild card when he's drunk. He could easily snap out of his tears and decide he needs a walk, or simply fall asleep on his feet.

Mingyu's eyes fall on Minghao, standing at the end of the bar with his eyes on his phone. He must sense Mingyu looking at him, or maybe he's just done with whatever he was doing because he looks up and catches sight of Mingyu and Seokmin.

The smile that lifts on his face makes Mingyu's stupid traitor heart leap in his chest. It's a grin, familiar from all the other times the three of them found their way into trouble over the last 10 years. Minghao slips his phone back into his pocket, walking over to the two of them.

"Is he still awake?" Minghao asks, reaching out to tap the back of Seokmin's head. Mingyu nods and Seokmin picks his head up, scrubbing tears out of his eyes before tossing his arms around Minghao's neck and pulling him into a hug instead.

"I'm not sleepy," Seokmin says, his voice warbling on every syllable. Minghao freezes for a moment, more surprised than put out it seems because he wraps his arms around Seokmin's sides, patting the back of his shoulders.

Mingyu can't help but smile when Minghao darts a look up at him, his own undeniable fondness for Seokmin written all over his face. Minghao isn't nearly as cagey about affection as he was when he first joined the company, but Seokmin is someone he's always found it hard to deny anyway.

"We should take him upstairs," Mingyu suggests, putting a hand at the small of Seokmin's back.

Seokmin shakes his head, lifting up from Minghao's shoulder to sulk at them both. "I don't wanna stay alone all night."

"We can stay with you," Minghao says, without bothering to even glance at Mingyu to ask. "We'll just share the extra bed."

"You will?" Seokmin says, his voice watery and hopeful at the same time.

It's not like Mingyu can refuse the damp puppy eyes that Seokmin gives him, nodding his head in agreement.

"Yeah," Mingyu says, though he's not exactly relishing the idea of having to share even tighter space with Minghao. "We can do that."

Minghao helps cart Seokmin off upstairs, keeping an arm around him to make sure he doesn't topple over while Mingyu is in charge of opening doors and pressing elevator buttons. He pulls the keycard out of Seokmin's pocket when Seokmin tells him which one it's in, opening the door and letting the two go in ahead of him.

They sit Seokmin on the edge of one of the beds and Mingyu stoops over in front of the tiny fridge, pulling out a cold bottle of water and passing it behind him. His hand touches Minghao's in the exchange but he pretends he doesn't notice.

"I didn't mean to make you guys do this," Seokmin says, apparently not over his own melancholy yet. Mingyu pets a hand through his hair and smiles.

"Drink your water," he says, twisting the cap open to make it easier. Seokmin complies while Minghao steps away from the bed and into the bathroom, coming back with a handful of tissues, using one of them to dab the remaining tears away from Seokmin's eyes.

"Jeonghan-hyung should've known this would happen," Minghao says, though it's hardly a real complaint. Minghao lifts one shoulder in a shrug, sitting down on the other bed.

"I think he was preoccupied with Channie," Mingyu says, licking his lips and looking nervously around the room. It would hardly be the first time that the three of them split close quarters, but the ground under his feet when it comes to Minghao is already unsteady and likely to shift or give way at any moment. And Mingyu hardly knows where there is for the two of them to go from here.

He can feel the same magnetic pull from Minghao's gaze that always traps him. It twists his stomach into knots and makes his heart climb up into the back of this throat. Even though he spent most of his time avoiding Minghao, it's impossible to really ignore him. They're always drawn together, it seems.

"You should wash your face," Minghao says, patting Seokmin's shoulder. Seokmin nods, setting the water down with clumsy hands and stumbling his way to the bathroom, using the wall for support.

When the door shuts, the same fond smile lingers on Minghao's face.

"Do you think it'd be easier if Soonyoung was here?" Mingyu asks, flopping onto his back with a sigh. Minghao laughs, low and soft.

"Probably not," he says. Mingyu rolls his head to the side, watching Minghao toy with the blanket under him. "They would probably just both be sad."

"Mmm, I guess," Mingyu says, combing his fingers back through his bangs.

"It's nice that you came," Mingyu says after the silence stretches on too long and he starts to feel more and more on edge. Minghao blinks at him and Mingyu sits up once again.

"Why wouldn't I?" Minghao says, a little furrow in his brow, leaning his head to the side. Mingyu bites the inside of his cheek, struggling to come up with an answer that won't sound fragile and petty.

"You just moved," Mingyu says, struggling a little to get his words out. "So your schedule must be pretty busy."

"I turned down a shoot to make sure I could come," Minghao says, shrugging in return.

"You did?" Mingyu asks, leaning forward and shaking his head. "Why?"

"It's our tenth year together," Minghao says, sounding a little like he's confused by the question. "Why wouldn't I be here? It's like you were saying to Seok-ah, we're still all family."

"Yeah, but," Mingyu can feel the words falling out of his mouth before he stops to think them through. "You just left. You didn't even tell us about it."

It's the wrong thing for him to say; all the curious openness on Minghao's face vanishes, his expression shuttering closed.

"Sorry," Mingyu says, not quite sure if he means it or not. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Like what?" Minghao asks, his voice low. "I didn't even look for a contract until you were already signing acting deals."

There's an accusation embedded in his tone and it makes Mingyu's face flush with heat, embarrassed and frustrated at the same time. Unlike Seokmin, he isn't drunk, and he's pretty sure that Minghao isn't either.

"You didn't even bother to tell me," Mingyu says, hearing how pathetic and wounded he sounds. He'd like to stop it from happening, but it seems like this is the kind of hurt that won't go away on its own. "You just took your stuff and left."

For a moment, Minghao is quiet, regarding Mingyu like a wary cat. His eyes are narrowed and his shoulders are sloped inward like he's getting ready to pounce. He opens his mouth to say something else when the bathroom door swings open. They both turn toward Seokmin, stumbling out before falling face first on the bed.

"I got distracted," he says, his voice muffled by the mattress. Minghao rolls his eyes, shooting a look at Mingyu that he's not quite sure how to interpret before standing up and pulling Seokmin's shoes off, setting them to the side before stripping his jacket off him as well.

"You have to do the rest yourself," Minghao says. Seokmin shakes his head, pulling himself under the blankets with his slacks and button up still on.

"I'll sleep like this," he says, squeezing his eyes shut. It seems like his breathing evens out into the smooth cadence of sleep in seconds.

"Maybe I should sleep in the other room," Mingyu says, squeezing his hand into a nervous fist. "I didn't mean to bring all this up, anyway."

“No,” Minghao says, low and intense. “What would you rather I have done? Hang around in Seoul and do nothing?”

Mingyu frowns, trying his best to swallow down the sting of Minghao’s words.

Maybe it’s because it’s been a long night, or because all the nostalgia is getting to him, or maybe he’s just tired of dancing around the truth when it comes to Minghao, but Mingyu’s words come out more honest than he means them to.

“I put off answering contract offers for months because I wanted to see what you’d do.”

“What?” Minghao says, the word coming out as more air than sound.

“I didn’t agree to anything until after you went to Hong Kong,” Mingyu says, every word tasting bitter as it leaves his mouth. “I thought… never mind. This is stupid.”

“You thought what?” Minghao says, shaking his head. Minghao frowns, looking down at his feet. When he doesn’t answer, Minghao steps forward, closing the distance between them to just a few feet.

“You thought what?” Minghao repeats, his head tilted back to look up at Mingyu properly.

“I thought you were gonna come back,” Mingyu says, forcing it out around the lump building up in his throat. “I thought you’d want to stay with me.”

Minghao leans his head back with a groan so loud that it startles Mingyu, making him leap back a little.

“This is so _stupid_ ,” Minghao says, closing in again and grabbing hold of Mingyu’s shirt to keep him from getting away, leaning up and planting a kiss to the surprised curve of Mingyu’s lips. Mingyu lets himself be pulled in the direction of the empty bed by Minghao’s grasp on his collar.

He sits down when the back of his legs hits the bed but Minghao stays upright, dropping his hands and looking down at Mingyu with his dark eyebrows close together. He stays like that for a moment, one hand curled in a fist by his hip, looking more uncertain than Mingyu has seen him in a long time.

“I did want that,” Minghao says, the words coming out of his mouth slowly. “But I thought you were already moving on, so I did too.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says, almost laughing. There’s not any real humor to it, but there’s a strange sense of relief that crashes over him.

“What about now?” He asks, letting the question fall out of his mouth before he really thinks hard about it. He knows well enough how to read the hesitance in Minghao’s posture, the way his whole frame is tucked in tight like he might change his mind and flee.

But he reaches a hand out instead, carding his long fingers through the thick locks of Mingyu’s hair, his voice soft. “Now I think we’ve been wasting our time for the last two years.”

Mingyu isn’t sure exactly what he means by that. Minghao sighs, stepping in closer, standing between Mingyu’s knees, fingers curling around the side of his face. “I’ve still been in love with you the whole time.”

It isn’t exactly a confession. But then, a confession isn’t what Mingyu needs to hear. He nods, leaning his cheek into the tips of Minghao’s fingers, looking up at his face with a slow smile.

“What if we just… try starting over?” he asks, pressing a kiss to Minghao’s palm. 

A wide smile stretches across Minghao’s face and he nods, leaning forward to press his forehead gently against Mingyu’s. “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says, shutting his eyes softly and wrapping his arms around Minghao’s thin hips. “Good.”

**{∞}**

Usually, Minghao is more prepared for things than this.

It’s his last morning in Seoul and he’s in his room in the dorms for the last time, the sound echoing strangely off the empty walls as he bundles sweaters into one of his suitcases. Packing all his things up in preparation for moving back to China has been harder than he was expecting… not because of the volume of clothing that he’s had to sort through but because of the unexpected sentimentality of it.

Knowing that he’ll never be back here— that he’s really leaving Seventeen, and maybe Korea, for good, added an extra weight to everything he’s packed away. There are only a few of them left in the dorms now and because of the missing decorations and furniture, Minghao’s footsteps sound overly loud on the wooden floor.

Still, as eerie quiet, as it is, he jumps in surprise when the door opens behind him.

“Do you want to—” Mingyu starts, then stops short, looking at Minghao’s back while he continues folding up his clothes. “What’re you doing?”

“Packing,” Minghao says, even though that should be obvious.

“For what?” Mingyu asks, standing in the doorway with a lost expression on his face. For years they’ve joked about Mingyu’s puppy-like qualities, but they never stand out more than when he’s scared or sad, looking like a dog left in the pound. “Where’re you going?”

“Anshan,” Minghao says, more sharply than he means to. They haven’t talked about their plans, at least not together, and now there’s no point to it. Everything has already been decided, for better or worse. “I’m moving to Hong Kong.”

Mingyu goes quiet for so long that Minghao has to give up on packing his things and finally look at him properly, hands bunching into fists near his hips. There’s a frown on his face, one hand clutching tight around the wood door frame, the other hanging loose at his side.

“When?” He asks, more softly than before.

“This afternoon,” Minghao says, though it’s really more like just a few hours. “Jun-hyung and I are on the same flight.”

“No, I mean…” Mingyu starts, trailing off with a shake of his head.

He doesn’t finish the question and even though Minghao knows what he’s asking, he doesn’t leap to give an answer. It’s an explanation he doesn’t owe Mingyu— his mind was made up weeks ago.

“I have to finish with this,” Minghao says after Mingyu doesn’t pick back up on his train of thought. Mingyu opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything and something in the center of Minghao’s chest twists painfully.

He knows he’s going to have to put his heart in a box alongside everything else. For a while, at least until it seems like it won’t ache so much anymore.

“Okay,” Mingyu says, the single word echoing in the suddenly heavy air between them. “So, this is it?”

Usually, Minghao is more prepared for things than this.

He could say yes and draw an end to his relationship with Mingyu for good, or say no and promise they’ll find some way to make things work no matter how impossible it is. But neither of those really seem like the right answer, so Minghao just lifts his slim shoulders in a shrug. The only answer he has is no answer at all.

Mingyu looks down at his feet, nods once, then drifts his way out of the room, his footsteps heavy in the empty dorm. Minghao squeezes his eyes shut, forcing himself to stay still even though he wants nothing more than to go chasing after Mingyu.

 

He manages to have all his things packed and loaded up in the car before he and Jun are set to leave, meaning he's sitting in the back seat and waiting for Jun for another 10 minutes before he comes down with his last suitcase in hand.

"Are you all set?" He asks, not bothering to apologize for being late. It's fine; Minghao hardly expects him to.

"Yeah." Minghao gives one last look at their dorm, both nostalgic and regretful.

Once they're both settled in, the van pulls away to take them off to the airport and Jun leans to the side, his cheek against Minghao's shoulder, sighing.

"It's so sad, isn't it?" He says, leaning his head to look up at Minghao. Minghao could point out that he made the choice to leave on his own but it doesn't matter anymore. It's hard for all of them and he puts an arm around Jun's shoulders without arguing the point with him. He wishes he was more positive like Jun or Seokmin; that he could trick himself into believing that things really will be okay.

"I know you wanted to stay," Jun says softly, catching Minghao by surprise. "I'm sorry."

"Can't do anything about it now," Minghao responds, tucking his chin toward his chest and grumbling just a little. Jun frowns, squeezing his hand around one of Minghao's slim wrists.

"Are you thinking about Mingyu-ya?" He asks. Rather than argue, Minghao shrugs the shoulder Jun isn't leaning on.

"I'm gonna miss everyone," he says, which isn't a real answer to what Jun asked him.

"Did you talk to him?" Jun asks, pressing the subject.

"Sure," Minghao says, turning his head to stare out the window, watching the busy streets of Seoul pass them by for what could be the last time-- at least for a long time. "Told him I was moving to Hong Kong."

"You told him today?" Jun asks, sitting up now. Minghao just shrugs again and Jun sighs.

"You two," he says, shaking his head.

"What difference does it make?" Minghao says, his voice more bitter than he means it to be. "He didn't bother telling me his plans either."

"You know what they say about taking an eye for an eye, Xiao Hao," Jun says, clicking his tongue. Minghao huffs out a small, frustrated sound through his teeth.

"What do they say?"

"It leaves everybody blind," Jun says, patting Minghao's shoulder.

Minghao could explain that he's not trying to get revenge on Mingyu, not really, but he's never been good at explaining his feelings. It seems better this way. It's a situation with no good answers but hanging around Seoul with no prospects trying to figure out his relationship with Mingyu isn't exactly promising for his future.

"I know that," he says finally, still staring out the window. In the reflection, he can see Jun's frown, the way he's sitting with his shoulders sagged. They're all tired; they're all sad. Minghao sighs, draping his arm over Jun's shoulders and pulling him in again. He doesn't want to talk about Mingyu anymore so he just doesn't say anything, leaning his cheek against the top of Jun's head and letting the miles fly by.

He has the thought that maybe rather than putting his heart in a box he's simply leaving it behind but it seems impossible to change that now.

Someday, he hopes, he'll find it again, no matter where he's left it.

**{*}**

It would be impossible to simply hit the restart button on a decade old relationship, no matter how hard the two of them try. So, _starting over_ for them goes something like this:

Mingyu is standing in front of a graffiti-covered wall, patiently enduring Minghao taking maybe the sixtieth photo of him in the last hour. It’d be a bother if the smile on his face weren’t so bright and sweet. It’s a reminder of how long it’s been since Mingyu has really seen him look this happy.

They don’t get to see each other every day, or even every week, but they make time whenever their schedules allow for it. It’s been five months since the anniversary party; since they came to a much better understanding of the relationship they do have.

“Okay, I got it,” Minghao says finally, lowering his camera with a laugh. Mingyu rolls his eyes, stepping away from the wall with a little shake of his head.

“You take too long,” he complains, his heart not really in it. Even though they can’t be seen holding hands in public, they walk close enough for their knuckles to brush together. Minghao smiles, one of his fingers tangling around Mingyu’s, just for a second.

“You complain too much,” he says in return and Mingyu laughs.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” He asks, tilting his head closer to make sure the question is quiet. Minghao hums, flashing a look up at Mingyu, releasing his finger but staying close.

“That depends on what you have in mind,” he says, his tongue tracing over his lower lip. Mingyu can feel the heat rising up in his face but he shakes his head anyway, clearing his throat to make sure his voice doesn’t come out sounding weird.

“N- not that,” Mingyu says, though now that Minghao’s brought it up…

“What for, then?” Minghao asks, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“Um, my sister is having a party,” Mingyu says, feeling suddenly nervous about the question. “She got married last year.”

“I remember,” Minghao says, his voice a little dry. “So I won’t see you, then?”

“I want you to come with me,” Mingyu says, the words tumbling fast out of his mouth. Minghao pauses, his lips drawing together. “As… y’know. As you.”

“You wanna tell your family?” Minghao asks, sounding skeptical. Mingyu nods his head, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. “We haven’t told anyone about this yet.”

“I know,” Mingyu says, scratching the back of his neck, crunching a little closer to Minghao to avoid a bike zipping down the sidewalk. The only person who knows is Seokmin; sworn to utter secrecy by their same-age bond after he woke up to the two of them sleeping tangled together with goofy smiles on their faces.

It isn’t that Mingyu particularly enjoys keeping secrets from the people in his life; especially from the other members. But they have such a habit of meddling and it seemed easier to give this relationship a second chance without everyone else getting involved as well.

But it’s been a good five months, even for the times they’ve fought or had to go a week at a time without being able to slip in anything other than conversations on the phone or online late at night. Mingyu is still too sentimental; too in love to not want the rest of the world to know about it.

Minghao looks up at him, his eyebrows knit together before just nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll come if you want me to.”

Mingyu can’t stop himself from letting out a happy whoop, pulling Minghao into a crushing hug against his chest, people around them be damned.

 

Standing outside of Minghao’s apartment with one of his nice shirts on, waiting for him to be ready to go to the party makes Mingyu understandably nervous. He was too busy with a variety shooting all day to send Minghao more than a few quick messages, mostly just updates on his day or in one case a joke he made on set that he found particularly funny.

He’s nervous that Minghao is going to have changed his mind on coming at all. Rather than knock on the door and have Minghao open it in his comfy house clothes with an annoyed look on his face, crushing Mingyu’s still fragile hopes, he’s shifting his weight back and forth nervously, debating if he should knock at all.

He hasn’t made up his mind when his phone rings from his pocket, blaring out the thumping bass of the last song Mingyu had a feature on, echoing in the empty hallway. Mingyu jumps nearly out of his skin, fishing it out of his pocket and almost throwing it on the ground when he realizes that the call is from Minghao.

Minghao, in the apartment he’s standing directly outside of, probably telling him he’s not coming.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, trying to smooth out his voice when he answers. He fails, the single word wiggling nervously past his lips, and he can’t help but cringe a little. Minghao is probably going to hear him standing out in the hall and think he’s the dumbest person in the world.

Not that Minghao has never thought that about him before, of course.

“Are you running late?” Minghao says. “I can drive by myself if you need me to.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says, feeling the back of his neck heat up. “Um.”

“If you still want me to come,” Minghao says, sounding like he’s rushing through the sentence a little. “I get it, I just thought you said you were coming at seven.”

Mingyu sighs, hanging his head and knocking on the door, his face growing steadily redder.

Over the phone, he can hear Minghao giggling. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” Mingyu says, only a few seconds before Minghao opens the door to grin at him, phone still pressed to his ear.

“How long have you been out here?” He asks, hanging up the phone and pulling Mingyu through the door, the smile on his face only growing when he sees Mingyu’s flushed cheeks.

“Just… a few minutes,” Mingyu says, looking anywhere but at Minghao’s face. “Like, 10.”

“You stood outside without knocking for 10 minutes?” Minghao asks, giggling so much it’s hard for him to get the words out. “The aunties are gonna start spreading rumors about you.”

“I was just,” Mingyu starts, pausing and sighing out a hard breath when he realizes he doesn’t have a good answer for what he was doing. Minghao smiles, a little softer and understanding, pressing a kiss against his cheek, squeezing Mingyu’s arm.

“I get it,” he says, patting Mingyu’s shoulder. “I only need like two more minutes.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says, taking a seat on Minghao’s couch when he turns back toward his room.

His attention is caught by the picture frame sitting in the center of the table. He noticed it the first time he came in but he didn’t have a chance to see what picture it actually was. All the times he’s been in Minghao’s apartment since then, it’s become one of his favorites. It’s a shot of the two of them, along with Seokmin, stretched out on a pile of leaves in cuddly looking sweaters. Minghao has his head tilted back, a vibrant red leaf caught in his hair, Mingyu’s hand extended in the middle of reaching to pull it out for him. All three of them are smiling. It’s a shot they took for one of their season’s greetings, one that didn’t make the final cut but Minghao liked regardless.

It makes Mingyu happy every time he sees it; a reminder that Minghao wasn’t ever quite as far away as he seemed to be.

“Your sister is gonna kill you for making us late,” Minghao says, pinching Mingyu’s ear as he goes by, adjusting his blazer on his shoulders and pausing to glare at the neat line of shoes in front of his door.

“She’ll be fine,” Mingyu says, standing up and shaking his head.

“Did you tell her you’re bringing me?” Minghao asks, glancing over his shoulder, a little bit of wariness in his tone.

“I told her I have a date,” Mingyu says, shrugging one shoulder. “But I didn’t tell her who.”

“She’s definitely gonna kill you,” Minghao says, pausing in the middle of slipping his shoe on, shaking his head. But he looks more amused than concerned, probably because he likes watching Mingyu get yelled at.

“Probably,” Mingyu says, pushing himself off of the couch with a little sigh. “She’ll be happy to see you, though.”

Minghao purses his lips like he’s not sure he entirely believes that but he twists around to grab Mingyu’s arm and pull him along rather than continuing to argue.

 

They do show up to the party late, but only fashionably so and Mingyu can see his older sister giving him a sour look from across the room when he walks in. A look that only improves slightly when she sees Minghao standing next to him. She goes from looking annoyed to curious, which Mingyu decides mus count as a victory.

He's hoping that his sister will be too busy receiving congratulations and presents to actually bother him about the fact that Minghao is holding one of his arms on a loose grasp, but she detaches herself from her husband with a few mumbled words in his ear and makes a beeline straight for them. Minghao glances up with a little smile, giving Mingyu's arm a squeeze.

"Told you," he says, quietly enough for only Mingyu to hear.

For his sister, Minghao smiles, soft and charming, his fingers tight at Mingyu's elbow. "You look nice tonight, Hyerim-noona. Congratulations on your first year."

"It's been so long since we've seen each other," Hyerim says, her tone kinder than Mingyu was expecting. The brunt of her annoyance is sure to fall on him though, rather than on Minghao. Still, Minghao shoots Mingyu a nervous glance, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I only just moved back a few months ago," he says, taking on a tone Mingyu recognizes from having sat next to Minghao for thousands of interviews.

"My brother must've forgotten to mention it," she says, turning to look up at Mingyu with both eyebrows raised. She's only a head shorter than him, with similar features and the same dark bronze skin tone. Before Mingyu hit his final growth spurt, they used to get asked constantly if they were twins, in spite of Hyerim being a full two years older.

"Sorry," Mingyu says, taking a wary step back. He's fairly certain that she won't yell at him at her own party, but sometimes there's just no telling for sure.

"So this is your date," she says, leaning her head to the side. Her face is neutral for one long moment and Mingyu tenses like he's prepared to run. But she smiles, shaking her head gently. "I should've figured."

Mingyu isn't sure what that exactly means, nor does he want to ask in front of Minghao only to be embarrassed even more. She gives Mingyu another pat on the shoulder, smiling warmly at Minghao.

"It really is nice to see you again," she says, sounding more sincere this time, tossing a wink at both of them before walking away. Minghao leans his forehead against Mingyu's shoulder, his body shaking with barely restrained giggles.

"I don't see what's so funny," Mingyu says, in a tone of voice that definitely isn't pouting.

"Was she waiting for us to get back together?" Minghao asks and Mingyu's cheeks go warm.

"I don't know," he says, shaking his head. "Probably."

He isn't sure what response to expect out of Minghao, really. There's so much of their relationship that has always gone unsaid, unquestioned, and it's led them to trouble more often than not. They haven't talked much about the last two years, deciding instead to leave the past in the past.

It's harder to explain that to everyone else around them.

But Minghao doesn't say anything more about it, just nodding his head and pulling Mingyu away in the direction of the refreshments table.

 

"I mean it, y'know," Mingyu says, hours later, standing on the tiny balcony of his sister's apartment with Minghao tucked under one of his arms, his elbow leaning on the railing. It's dark, but the city lights drown out the view of the stars far above them.

"Mean what?" Minghao says, running his fingers around the rim of the champagne flute in his hand, producing a soft note that fades quickly.

Mingyu has had enough champagne that his thoughts keep floating away from him, but he holds fast to this one. "All of it. I mean it."

"What are you talking about?" Minghao asks, looking up at him with a giggle, pressing the rim of the crystal glass against his lips to hide his smile.

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, Mingyu looks up at the distant sky, trying to put his thoughts into order.

"I'm really serious this time," Mingyu says after a moment, looking back at Minghao, pulling him closer in the cool fall air. "About you and me. That's what I'm talking about."

"Oh," Minghao says, his voice a little softer.

Maybe it's too early to try and have a conversation like this. He may have loved Minghao for a decade, but they only decided to give their relationship a second chance a few months ago…

Minghao leans his head against Mingyu's shoulder, taking a sip of champagne and nodding.

"Me too," he says, letting the glass dangle from his fingers once again. He tilts his head back and Mingyu leans in to kiss him.

It’s been one hundred and fifty days since the two of them finally started to make things right and Mingyu is still too sentimental, but all the feelings he can’t help but carry with him aren’t such a burden anymore.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for come home to my heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15547698) by [svtbigbang_mod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/svtbigbang_mod/pseuds/svtbigbang_mod)




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